A Fortune-telling Princess

“Do you really think this kid—who’s spent her entire life looking at those four men—would like a man like Oslin?”

“Well, of cour—!”

“Camilla.”

Linders flinched as she SPRANG up from her seat, about to shout that it was obvious. Someone was walking over to where they were.

“So you were here.”

It was Petro. And beside him—

“Your brothers are here.”

“Hey, what are you doing leaving your communication orb behind? I told you to keep it on you so you can be reached right away.”

“Did you sleep well?”

Ravi and Ludville were with him. Arsian quietly revealed himself behind them.

With four men who drew attention even when they were alone walking over together, everyone’s mouths fell open without anyone needing to cue it.

“Th-th-th—”

Camilla clicked her tongue lightly at the sight of Linders stammering.

So you do have a conscience.

With those four in front of you, you can’t exactly say it’s “obvious,” can you?

In the end, Linders couldn’t force out the rest of her sentence and had no choice but to sit back down in silence.

*****

“What is all this?”

Camilla shook her head as she looked at the pile of items stacked throughout the room.

Taking a closer look, they were things Ravi and Ludville had brought and left behind after stopping by earlier.

Just in case, I brought some protective gear.

If it’s not enough, tell me. I’ll bring more.

...My brothers. They didn’t have any concept of numbers.

“Why do these people always lose their minds trying to turn me into someone heading off to a battlefield?”

From items loaded with offensive spells to all kinds of protective equipment, the room was packed with tools.

She wasn’t even going far—just staying at a friend’s house for a few days—and this was what they did?

“Is it because of what happened back then?”

The attack in the Gracia Empire. That must have left them with trauma, making them fuss like this.

“Well, it’ll be useful.”

If people really did come to steal the Guardian’s Sword this time, this place would literally become a battlefield.

KNOCK KNOCK.

Just then, the door cracked open with a knock.

“Can I come in?”

It was Elisha.

“Come in.”

Even with permission, she couldn’t step inside easily. Only after a long while did she hover into view, fidgeting.

“What are you doing?”

The way she spoke to Camilla was awkward as hell.

“Just resting.”

“Th-that...”

That? That what?

Elisha kept opening and closing her mouth, like she couldn’t get the words out.

Watching her bite her lip without managing to say anything properly, Camilla spoke first.

“What? You have something to ask?”

“So, earlier...”

“Earlier?”

“Why did you help me?”

Elisha felt a huge question mark over the fact that Camilla—of all people—had defended her. If anything, Camilla was the type to ignore her. She wasn’t someone who would ever help.

“I didn’t help you.”

“...What?”

“They were acting so childish, so I just played childish along with them. What, do you think I’m crazy? You think I’d help you when you’ve got manners like you dipped them in shit and ate them?”

Why would I?

“Ugh...”

Elisha’s face turned red in an instant. She glared at Camilla for a moment, then SPRANG to her feet.

Of course. I shouldn’t have come! I knew it!

“You like plays?”

“...Why?”

Elisha’s steps faltered on her way out. If it had been anything else, she would’ve ignored it and left, but the word plays made her body react first.

“I heard you go even by yourself.”

Now that Camilla thought about it, in the past she’d often ended up at the theater as if Elisha were dragging her there.

The Camilla from before had been completely uninterested in that sort of thing, so she really did follow along like she was being forced.

But watching it, Camilla found the plays in this world pretty interesting.

“The Heart of Evil, was it? It was more fun than I expected.”

“You remember?”

“I think I went with you to see that play three times.”

“That’s right!”

Elisha’s voice got a little louder without her realizing it.

“Then you really thought it was fun?”

“Yeah.”

“I thought you hated plays.”

So you knew I hated them and you still dragged me around? You’re not even a fox—just a nasty little brat. Tsk.

“I heard they’re staging The Heart of Evil again this time!”

“So you’re going to go see it again?”

She really did like plays.

It was a little unexpected—Elisha’s eyes sparkling as she started talking about theater even right in front of someone she claimed to hate.

“I-I’ll go.”

As if she was embarrassed that she’d shown her feelings without meaning to, Elisha turned even redder and hurried to leave the room.

“Take this.”

Camilla handed her a few of the protective tools Ravi had left behind.

In all the repeated lives, Camilla had never once heard that a direct line of the ducal house died, but...

Still. Just in case.

With zero combat ability, that brat was the one who worried her the most.

“Why are you giving me this...?”

“They say if you get cursed out a lot, you live a long time—so shouldn’t you live a long time too? I’m always talking shit about you as hard as I can.”

“Even when you’re helping, you have to—!”

Camilla kept giggling as she watched the door slam shut. That one was surprisingly fun to tease, too.

“Still, her complexion looked really bad.”

Was she suffering that much because of her friends?

Seeing how visibly gaunt Elisha looked compared to last time, Camilla clicked her tongue lightly.

[You’re not sleeping?]

“What time is it?”

[Past twelve.]

“Already?”

Camilla put down the book she’d been reading. The Ducal House of Jevillan had more interesting books than she’d expected.

Elisha liked plays, so was that why? There were lots of scripts, and piles of original novels that had been adapted for the stage.

“I’ll have some tea.”

It was late, but she planned to finish reading the book before sleeping, so Camilla stood up. To stretch out her stiff body, she decided to go to the kitchen herself.

—Ugh... ngh...!

“What was that?”

A moment later, as Camilla left her room and headed for the kitchen, she stopped at the faint sound.

“Elisha?”

The source of it was Elisha’s room.

—Hh... ngh...!

Don’t tell me...!

Camilla’s expression hardened. Had the enemy’s attack already started? But if it had, everything else was far too quiet. Then was it a thief? An assassin?

SLAM!

Camilla threw the door open and stormed inside. Trusting the protective tools Ravi and Ludville had given her, she didn’t hesitate for a second.

“El—!”

But Camilla’s face twisted the moment she stepped in. An unexpected scene was unfolding.

What is that ghost doing now?

The one attacking Elisha as she slept was one person... no—one ghost.

*****

“This is a ❖ Nоvеl𝚒ght ❖ (Exclusive on Nоvеl𝚒ght) masterpiece, seriously!”

A little earlier, Elisha too had been reading late into the night.

The Heart of Evil. No matter how many times she read it, she never got tired of it.

It had already been adapted into a play, and she’d watched it again and again, but every time it was enjoyable—fresh.

“Haa... I want to act, too.”

She couldn’t tell anyone, but her dream was to become an actor. An actor performing on stage.

After being completely captivated by a play she saw by chance as a child, Elisha had gone to see theater whenever she had the time.

Even once would be enough. She dreamed every day of standing on a stage like that herself.

“But how would I even...”

It was, in the truest sense, nothing more than a dream.

“Me? An actor? A daughter of the Ducal House of Jevillan?”

The moment she said it out loud, she knew better than anyone what kind of reaction she’d get from her father and everyone around her.

If she didn’t get thrown out of the house, it would be a miracle. Petro might support her, but her father...

“Haa.”

A long sigh slipped out of Elisha again. Every night, practicing acting alone in front of the mirror was her only hobby—her only comfort.

She’d started to soothe her frustration, but the more she did it, the more desperately she wanted to act.

“Should I just sleep?”

After checking the time, Elisha headed for bed. Her steps felt incredibly heavy.

Lately, falling asleep had been terrifying.

It felt like she was having nightmares, but when she woke up, she couldn’t remember anything. Sometimes the bed was damp, like she’d been sweating cold sweat.

“Is the bed old?”

Was it because her sleeping situation was uncomfortable?

After staring at the bed with anxious eyes for a moment, Elisha carefully closed her eyes.

But not long after—contrary to her worries—she began to breathe evenly and quickly sank into deep sleep.

GRRRRK... GRRK......

Had about an hour passed like that?

The drawer of her vanity table, set in one corner of the room, slowly creaked open.

A white hand popped out, then a woman with long hair hanging loose crawled out, dragging herself along.

Very slowly, she approached the bed, then—like it was familiar—climbed onto Elisha’s body. Her hand reached for Elisha’s throat.

“Ugh... ngh...!”

A moan spilled from Elisha. As if she couldn’t breathe comfortably, her complexion gradually paled.

[Just a little more.......]

Muttering words no one could understand, the ghost applied even more force. Her eyes rolled wildly, like she’d been swallowed by madness.

“Kh... hh... ngh....”

Elisha’s moans grew louder and louder.

[More... just a little more......!]

Smack!

“Bullshit.”

[......!]

In that instant, the ghost’s body pitched forward. One brutally rough blow to the head did it.

“Zeno, hit her one more time.”

[Sure.]

Smack!

[AAAAAGH!]

The moment Camilla spoke, Zeno smacked the panicking ghost in the head again.

[Y-you... who are you?]

“That’s what I should be asking. Who are you?”

Leaving the flustered ghost behind, Camilla quickly checked on Elisha on the bed.

As if she’d been trapped in sleep paralysis for a moment because of the ghost, Elisha now slept peacefully, like nothing had happened.

“Drag her out.”

Camilla left the ghost to Zeno and slowly walked out of the room. Her eyes shifted one last time to the vanity table the ghost had come out of.

That’s the problem, I think.

Why was something like that in this room?

Staring at the vanity table—cold with the distinctive chill of a haunted object—Camilla clicked her tongue.