A Fortune-telling Princess

‘Because ✪ Nоvеlіgһt ✪ (Official version) of her usual behavior.’

To the Duke of Sorpel, who had long since closed his heart to the stepdaughter that dragged the family’s honor through the mud everywhere she went, Camilla’s words were not worth believing.

First...

She had to win the duke over. Whatever filth Ravi stirred up, she had to make sure none of it splashed onto her.

But how?

His affection had already been drained dry.

[Hey.]

She’s not even his real daughter.

Even if it had been his own flesh and blood behaving that way, he might have driven her out. But a stepdaughter with not a drop of shared blood, ruining the family’s reputation...

[Can’t you hear my voice?]

If it were me, I’d despise her too.

Why did she even brawl with other noble girls, yanking hair, of all things—

[I said, look at me.]

And in the middle of a crowded party, no less.

[Hey, can’t you hear me? You’re listening, aren’t you?]

Isn’t there some way?

Should she go and kneel, beg forgiveness?

[Last time you locked eyes with me. You can see me, can’t you?]

“Enough already! So what if I can see you? What difference does it make?”

She was already on edge, and now this.

Camilla finally snapped at the old man who had been pestering her day after day.

I was trying to ignore him to the end!

But with him nattering in her ear without rest, it was impossible.

[So... it’s true!]

The elderly man in a chef’s uniform—Ferrol—trembled as though struck with revelation.

“I’m not doing anything for you.”

Camilla cut him off immediately, despite the adoring, tear-bright look he gave her.

Listening to the requests of such beings never led to anything good.

“I don’t pass along messages, I don’t solve lingering regrets. I don’t do that kind of work. I can’t.”

Do I look like I’m asking to be stoned?

Trying to appease ghosts without being branded insane was exhausting—mentally, physically. Ignoring them was the safest policy.

[So I really am visible to you?]

“I said, I won’t.”

[Incredible! Amazing! You can see me, hear me too?]

She refused to acknowledge his babble, watching him hop in excitement like a fool.

I don’t have time for this.

Camilla forced herself to shut him out. Soon enough she might be drifting through the world like one of them anyway.

What mattered now was winning the Duke of Sorpel’s favor.

“Ugh! How am I supposed to know what he likes or hates? I don’t know anything about him!”

Her paths rarely crossed with the duke. The only times they did, it ended in scolding.

Naturally, she had no idea what pleased him.

[What the duke likes?]

Ferrol’s voice intruded again. At some point, he had drawn close, smiling warmly.

[That I know very well.]

“......!”

[I’ve been here since His Grace was a baby, you see.]

Camilla, who had been slumped hopelessly in her chair, leapt to her feet.

“Old man!”

Chapter: Survive First

“Hm.”

Early morning, the Duke of Sorpel took a walk for the first time in a long while.

He had been buried in official business of late, with no spare hours. Today he indulged in rare leisure.

It’s been a while.

His steps carried him into the garden where mist-flowers bloomed in profusion. White blossoms, spread wide under a sheen like fog, made a breathtaking view.

Hm?

Strolling, admiring the dew-beaded blooms, his eyes widened.

Camilla?

There, among the mist-flowers, stood a familiar figure.

His brow furrowed sharply.

Don’t tell me she’s at it again...!

It had happened before: she had torn up a perfectly good rose garden, leaving it a wreck.

As usual, she had pressed her lips shut, offering no explanation. She had destroyed it for no reason at all.

He had let it go then—roses could be replanted.

But this was different. The mist-flower bed was not to be touched.

“Camilla!”

His voice, rougher than usual, rang out as he strode forward. He seized her shoulder as she bent and straightened repeatedly.

Thud.

“......!”

Something dropped from her hands—mist-flowers.

“Ah...”

Camilla looked up at him, startled, then gazed down at the fallen blossoms with regret before stooping to pick them up one by one, carefully.

“What are you doing here?”

“I was picking flowers.”

“Flowers?”

Gathering them all into her arms, Camilla rose and met his eyes with a faint smile.

“To decorate your chamber, Father.”

“My chamber?”

“Yes.”

“......”

“The study looked so barren when I last saw it.”

The duke’s gaze darkened with complexity. She was plucking flowers—for him?

What was she thinking? This was unlike her.

“Is that not allowed?”

Arms full of blooms, she looked at him with cautious eyes. He found himself unable to speak for a long while.

At last—

“Do as you wish.” 𝒻𝓇𝑒𝘦𝘸𝑒𝒷𝓃ℴ𝑣𝘦𝑙.𝒸ℴ𝘮

A brief, unexpected consent.

“Thank you!”

Her face lit up instantly. His expression grew stranger still as he watched.

“I’ll put them in a vase and bring them right away!”

With that, she left the flower bed, her smile deepening.

“The duke really does like mist-flowers, then?” she whispered.

[Indeed, Lady Camilla.]

The reply came from Derrin, the butler’s ghost, whose figure was lean and vigorous despite his age.

Not long after she had spoken with Ferrol, he too had come to her side.

Having heard everything from the chef-ghost, Derrin declared he would help as well. He would share what knowledge he had.

Camilla, always an outsider in this house, was now striving to please her father. Why shouldn’t he aid her?

The first piece of information he gave was this:

[The late grand duchess adored mist-flowers. She tended this bed herself.]

The “late grand duchess” meant the duke’s mother, long deceased.

[And so His Grace holds the flowers very dear.]

Camilla nodded faintly. His words rang true.

The duke’s eyes, earlier—there had been something different. Not the usual indifference, but a ripple.

The first crack has opened.

Time to move to the next step.

“No.”

The moment she stepped into the kitchen, Jellard blocked her way. Camilla clicked her tongue.

Once again, she was reminded of how the household had always treated her.

Still—she was the duke’s daughter. Stepdaughter or not, that much was fact.

Shouldn’t he at least pretend to hesitate?

But Jellard dismissed her request to use the kitchen without a heartbeat’s pause. His burning eyes told the rest: lingering resentment from when she had criticized his dish and thrown him out.

“Why not?”

“It’s dangerous.”

“What is?”

“There are many hazards here. One splash of oil and you’ll be burned. This is no place for you.”

The words claimed safety, but his gaze spat: How dare the likes of you come here?

To him, the kitchen was sacred ground. Seeing someone who knew nothing about cooking intrude was unbearable.

“Well, I need it.”

“It’s dangerous.”

Again, the same dull refrain.

“I have a dish I must prepare myself. Move.”

“Tell me, and I’ll make it for you.”

“You don’t know how.”

“What?”

The composure on Jellard’s face flushed red. He opened and closed his mouth, speechless, before stammering out words.

“You mean to say you can cook something I cannot?”

“Yes.”

“Hah...”

Now he laughed outright in derision. Impossible. There was no dish he could not make—and certainly not one she could.

No, that’s not true.

There were foods he would not make—the peasant trash eaten in villages. Could she mean that?

“I see.”

Having drawn his own conclusion, he stepped aside.

Whatever she tried, he would enjoy mocking her.

“Then go ahead.”

Guiding her to a board lined with knives, he gave the other cooks a look: Don’t help her.

Could she even find ingredients on her own in this vast kitchen?

Not that it mattered. No one here would lift a finger for her.

“......”

Camilla examined the knives, chose one, and tested its edge with satisfaction.

Swish.

“This one’s good.”

“Well then, that’s fortun—why are you coming this way?”

He flinched as she strode toward him, blade in hand. Was she about to threaten him? Stab him?

Given her reputation, he wouldn’t have been surprised—

Clang!

“......!”

Instead, she drove the knife point-first into a wooden board with a sharp crack.

Then she looked him squarely in the eye.

“Wager with me.”

“A... wager?”

“Yes. That I can make a dish you’ll want to learn.”

“You, my lady?”

His surprise quickly curdled into a smirk. Could she be serious?