A Fortune-telling Princess

“Ugh — why are all the Black Mages from that one house...?”

The House of Sephra, Arsian’s family, was so closed-off it would not even tolerate imperial interference.

No one dared contest the claim that it was all policy for the sake of the power they possessed — the Guardian that ruled the darkness.

So that was why she’d approached Arsian.

Going directly through the Sephra house’s channels would be impossible, so she’d planned to pitch the business proposal to Arsian, who was the easiest point of access.

Of course, she couldn’t even show him the ore, let alone the proposal.

Still — what did it mean to “rule the darkness”?

The Sephra house’s Guardian was a black wolf. Camilla had never seen that power with her own eyes; over so many repeated lives she’d had almost no contact at all with the Sephras or with Arsian.

Only rumors reached her. People gossiped that the family head’s Guardian power was tremendous. They rhapsodized that wherever the black wolf’s power unfolded, nothing remained but death...

Camilla stared at King, who was busily licking her hand. He looked especially small today as he toddled about.

“Maybe I picked the wrong name.”

[Gyuu?]

King blinked his large eyes and cocked his head in mischief; Camilla let out a short sigh.

The “best” one, my foot. If he survives a fight it’ll be a mercy.

“Run away.”

Don’t fight that sort of thing; always run away.

“Yeah! Not dying is winning. Remember that.”

[Gyugyu?]

Camilla smoothed King’s head again as he kept cocking his head.

****

“Look over there!”

“Huh......”

More than usual, people’s gazes clustered today.

What? Why? I’m comfortable and I look nice.

A white shirt and dark brown flared trousers — truly a comfortable outfit.

Her hair was slicked back and tied simply, and the non-prescription glasses added a subtle point to her face.

“What on earth is that outfit?”

“W-well.”

“Trousers... like that?”

Women wearing trousers as everyday clothes was very rare. For a noble young lady to wear them like this was something people had never seen before, so more and more eyes gathered.

Besides, Camilla’s trousers were a design none of them had seen in their lives; everyone expressed surprise.

But why did it suit her so well?

It’s trousers — why is it pretty?

Click click.

Walking with confidence in a design they’d never seen, people felt something strange watching her.

The women especially had sparkling eyes, like those who’d discovered a new fashion item.

[Wow, you look so cool today!]

I looked cool yesterday, too.

The first to speak to Camilla as she entered the classroom was the girl ghost, Amy.

She used to sit only in the corner of the classroom — and now she was the one to speak first.

That the first person to say hello to me was a ghost rather than a living person made Camilla feel a fresh wave of doubt about her social life.

She gave a short sigh, opened her book, and prepared to study for the upcoming midterms.

She planned to raise her assessment score for finding a Guardian with this midterm. She’d taken the same exams countless times, but she couldn’t afford carelessness — from today she’d burn with academic zeal.

Screeeek—!

At that moment the classroom door opened and everyone’s gazes naturally turned to the front.

“Hngh!”

All around came the sudden intake of breath. Camilla, wondering at the commotion, looked up and, like them, gaped.

“...Huh.”

Why are you here?

It was Arsian. At his appearance, everyone in the classroom fell silent with fear.

...I’m scared too.

Arsian seemed to be searching for someone; then, having found his target, he strode forward.

Camilla swallowed hard as the man drew nearer.

Cancel what I said earlier!

I will never complain again about only having ghosts in my social circle. I absolutely do not want that brutal person mixed into my relationships!

Thak—!

Like yesterday, Arsian lightly gripped the edge of Camilla’s desk where she sat. The sound pierced her ears.

“Let me have a look at you.”

His low voice was pleasant to hear. Camilla’s insides trembled, but by habit she wore a smile at her lips.

“What are you going to do for me?”

“What?”

Arsian’s brow twitched as if he hadn’t expected that answer. Her heart tightened for a second, but Camilla kept an even calmer expression.

“If you demand someone’s time, there has to be compensation.”

After all, you’re the one who came to see me first today.

There were gasps around the room, but Camilla did not avert her eyes from Arsian. Then...

“Anything.”

“Huh?”

“If it’s what you want, anything.”

A chorus of shocked exclamations leaked from the onlookers. Camilla herself felt the same.

What on earth do you want from me?

Her °• N 𝑜 v 𝑒 l i g h t •° guard rose at the promise to grant anything. There had to be a reason for asking to see her that badly.

I feel uneasy.

Very uneasy.

****

“You can talk with them, right?”

Turning their backs on all those gazes, they went to the least crowded place: Spirit Lake.

Once there, Arsian bluntly fired a question.

If she’d said out loud, “What do you mean ‘you have a mouth but can’t talk’?” she’d probably have gotten punched.

He probably meant this sort of conversation...

“If you mean talking with the dead, yes — I can.”

That was the answer he wanted; Arsian’s eyes changed. Emotion seemed to swell to the surface of his shaking gaze.

“Ask.”

“What?”

“Who.”

His head tilted; Camilla turned her eyes to his side. A child of about seven still clung tightly to Arsian’s hem.

Tch.

A little fellow with golden hair and deep green eyes — very cute. If he could put on a little weight he’d be much prettier.

Camilla stepped closer to the child.

[.....]

The child flinched and shrank back behind Arsian, but even so would not let go of his hem.

“Hello.”

When Camilla waved, the child shrank further. She searched her pockets for a way to get closer. Fortunately, she found a few candies she’d tucked away for when she was bored.

“Want one?”

The child peeking out from behind Arsian stared at the candy.

[What is that?]

After a long pause the child spoke for the first time; the voice was as cute as his face. Camilla found herself smiling and knelt to meet his eye level.

“Candy.”

[Do you eat it?]

“Yeah.”

Again Camilla noted how only bones remained of the child’s body. He did not even know candy.

She forced her expression not to harden, unwrapped a candy, and held it out.

Swoosh.

When the child reached out cautiously, a faint light rose above the candy; the child put it to his mouth and nibbled.

“What are you doing?”

Arsian asked, puzzled.

“He looks hungry.”

“Can the dead eat food?”

“No.”

Crinkle.

The candy on Camilla’s palm crumbled like powder and was carried away by the wind.

“It’s less ‘eating’ and more absorbing the food’s vitality. Better than nothing, I suppose.”

While Arsian flinched at the strange event, Camilla’s expression remained calm.

“Tasty?”

[Yes.]

“Want more?”

The child nodded vigorously. Seeing that, Camilla unwrapped the rest of the candy and offered it.

This time the child picked it up without resistance and put it into his mouth. A smile spread across his lips; only then did Camilla ask the question she’d been wanting to ask.

“What’s your name?”

She felt Arsian stiffen at the question. The child glanced at Arsian, then back at Camilla.

[Sier.]

“Sier?”

He nodded. Camilla straightened. She did not need him to repeat the name. Arsian stared at the place where the child stood with an increasingly inflamed look in his eyes.

After a long look, Arsian sank to one knee and stretched both hands forward.

“Sier.”

[Brother.]

The child wrapped his small arms tightly around Arsian’s neck.

“Brother?”

Camilla watched the two of them, dazed.

Chapter. House of Sephra

“Brother, eat this.”

“You eat.”

“I’m not hungry.”

There was absolutely no light in the cellar. They had been trapped there for ten days.

Their eyes had grown used to the dark; they no longer had much difficulty making out shapes.

“I’m not hungry either.”

The older brother shook his head as his little brother held out a tiny piece of bread. The piece hardly exceeded a child’s fist, and the cup of water that came with it was less than one small cup. That meager ration for two people to survive a day was tantamount to a sentence to die.

“Brother, I’m sorry.”

The younger sibling, sickly since childhood, had withered further in those harsh conditions.

‘If you want to live, kill.’

A man had told them only one could leave alive — he pushed his own child into death. The memory of what the man, their father, had said made the older brother grind his teeth.

‘Then you’ll be able to feel the darkness.’

That insane practice had been done generation after generation. To gain the power that governed the darkness, they had to do things like this. He felt nauseous.

Kill your sibling to gain that power? Kill your family?

“Brother.”

He gently stroked the head of the younger one who looked up at him worriedly.

If you die, then you die — but I will never do that.