A fortune-telling princess

[That’s why I told you not to come here.]

“It’ll lead to your disappearance.”

[…]

“If you keep holding on like this, your eradication will be guaranteed.”

[I know.]

“And yet you persist?”

[I can’t help it.]

The headmistress simply smiled, unfazed by the mention of disappearance. She already knew from the grim reaper, Havel, what the consequences would be.

[But those children need me.]

“What can a dead person possibly do for them?”

[…]

“Look after them for a brief moment?”

[I…]

“Is that more important than ceasing to exist?”

Camilla clicked her tongue, exasperated.

“That’s something the teachers here are more than capable of doing. Don’t you trust the people you personally chose to run this place?”

The headmistress let out a long sigh.

[I’m worried.]

“About what?”

The headmistress’s gaze turned toward the main building.

[My son.]

***

“What?”

“Cut the food expenses,” said the man.

The new headmaster, who had taken over after the passing of the previous headmistress, was a man in his mid-thirties.

His first act upon assuming his role was to review the orphanage’s financial ledgers. Now, he was issuing orders to the staff he had gathered.

“Not just food expenses,” he continued, holding up one of the ledgers and shaking his head.

“There’s far too much wasteful spending.”

He tossed the ledger back onto the desk, glaring sharply at the staff before him.

“Do you think this is some noble’s mansion? Why are the children eating such high-quality food? And their clothes—there are far cheaper options available. Ridiculous.”

“But these were the instructions left by the former headmistress,” one staff member protested.

“That’s right. She insisted the children receive the best in everything—”

“Enough.”

The man cut them off abruptly, unwilling to hear any more.

“That’s why I’m saying it’s time for a change.”

The new headmaster, Hemann, disliked every policy his late mother had implemented.

“She should’ve limited her charity work to a reasonable level.”

Hemann came from a family with a history of successful business ventures and wealth.

But throughout his life, he had never felt like the son of a wealthy household.

‘How am I any different from an orphan?’

His mother had raised him no differently than the other orphans. He ate the same food they ate and wore the same clothes.

‘Sometimes, I even came last because I was her biological son.’

Because of this, others often mistook him for an orphan as well.

‘Even when I screamed that I wasn’t, no one cared.’

His resentment grew as he watched his parents prioritize the orphans over him. Even on their deathbeds, his mother and father’s final words to him were the same:

“Take care of the children.”

‘Why should I?’

Most orphanage administrators skimmed off government support for their personal gain. But this orphanage?

His mother poured every penny of her wealth, including profits from other ventures, into it.

“From now on, every expense must be reported to me,” Hemann declared.

“But—”

“Do you have a problem with that?”

“It’s just…”

“Then leave. I’ll ensure your severance is calculated fairly.”

The staff fell silent. Many of them had been working there for over 20 years, dedicating their lives to the orphanage. To leave the children behind was unthinkable.

***

“It makes sense, doesn’t it?”

[Makes sense?]

“If I were him, I’d resent you too.”

Listening to the story of the new headmaster, Camilla clicked her tongue again.

The headmistress looked puzzled, unable to understand.

“Who would like parents who prioritize others over their own child?”

To orphans and outsiders, her kindness seemed extraordinary. She was a saint who cared deeply for others.

But to her own child?

‘She was the worst.’

What kind of feelings must Hemann have harbored, growing up no different from the orphans? Watching his parents care for others before him?

“You made a mistake, madam.”

Could Hemann have ever felt the love of his parents?

Children derive feelings of self-worth from small, simple gestures. Receiving more praise or an extra pat on the head makes them feel special and loved.

“But if they’re treated the same as everyone else?”

Especially by their own parents?

[I loved my son dearly. Is it wrong to have loved the other children just as much?]

It was admirable. Loving someone else’s children as much as her own? That was extraordinary.

‘Well, no wonder she was revered as a saint.’

“But did he know?”

[What?]

“Did your son know you loved him?”

[Of course, he must have—]

“I doubt it.”

Camilla shook her head.

“People say family love doesn’t need to be spoken, but… is that really true?”

Camilla had never experienced a proper family, so she couldn’t say for sure.

“Sometimes, you have to say it out loud for them to understand.”

The headmistress was left speechless.

Had she truly shown her love to Hemann?

Had treating all the children equally been wrong?

Why was she remembering that now?

The first time her son had proudly shown her a perfect test score at age nine, only to lower his head after her words were drowned out by another child’s achievements.

[If Hemann realizes how much I loved him, do you think he’d stop trying to ruin the orphanage?]

“Maybe.”

If he understood her love, he might reconsider harming what she cherished most.

[Can I ask a favor?]

****

“Welcome.”

Hemann had to face an unexpected guest—someone of considerable status.

The woman who had arrived at the orphanage early that morning was none other than Camilla, a duchess of the Sorpel family.

“I heard you recently visited us,” he said politely.

Donations were always welcome, after all.

“I have a connection to this place.”

“A connection?”

“I knew your mother well.”

“…What?”

This was news to him. His mother had never mentioned such a relationship.

“We confided in each other.”

“…I beg your pardon?”

Hemann’s expression grew more confused.

‘How? Why?’

There had been no indication of any connection between his mother and the Sorpel family.

Camilla didn’t let him dwell on it for long.

“I have something to give you.”

“To me?”

“Your mother left it with me before she passed.”

Camilla gestured, and Dorman set a large box on the table.

“What is this?”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?”

“She just asked me to deliver it to you after she was gone.”

Before Hemann could question her further, Camilla rose to leave.

“You’re leaving already? At least have some tea—”

“No need. I’ve already had some.”

Hemann stood up as if to see her off, but she waved him down.

“No need to escort me.”

“…Understood.”

After Camilla left, Hemann’s attention returned to the box.

“What could this be…”

He opened it cautiously, only to find what seemed to be a collection of random items.

But as he looked closer, his expression changed.

“This is…”

The first thing to catch his eye was a book—his favorite childhood book.

“No way…”

Hemann rummaged through the box frantically.