A fortune-telling princess

‘Could this all be a coincidence?’

Someone wearing the Duchess’s bracelet, with a face identical to the Duke’s?

When considering everything together, the simplest conclusion was this: the Duke and Duchess had a child, and that child was Rania.

‘But that doesn’t make any sense.’

The Duchess passed away long ago. Unless a ghost gave birth to a child, such a thing was impossible.

[But why are you suddenly asking about that bracelet?]

“Derin.”

[Yes, my lady.]

“If I told you I saw someone wearing that bracelet, would you believe me?”

[…What?]

“I saw a woman wearing the exact same bracelet.”

Camilla stated the truth plainly, hoping Derin, who had watched over the estate for so long, might know something.

[You really saw it? Where?!]

“……?”

[Was it a woman in her 40s?]

“…What?”

Derin’s response was entirely unexpected. In an uncharacteristically frantic manner, he began bombarding her with questions.

In her 40s

What does her age have to do with anything?

[Wasn’t she a woman in her 40s?]

“No, she wasn’t.”

[Ah…….]

“She was a young woman, about my age.”

[Your age?]

“She said the bracelet was given to her by her mother.”

[Wh-what…!]

Derin’s expression immediately twisted into one of shock. Seeing this, Camilla frowned in confusion.

Why was Derin, who was usually composed, reacting so strongly?

“Derin.”

[…Yes, my lady.]

He appeared dazed for a moment before quickly regaining his composure.

“You’re hiding something from me, aren’t you?”

Why had he immediately asked if it was a woman in her 40s after she mentioned seeing the late Duchess’s bracelet?

A typical reaction would’ve been shock or curiosity, not… this.

[…….]

It was clear he was keeping something to himself. Derin’s lips were pressed firmly together.

“Derin.”

[…This isn’t something I can speak about freely. Please understand, my lady.]

Bowing his head, Derin maintained his silence despite her persistence.

‘What on earth is going on?’

Camilla could only feel her suspicions deepening.

“Zeno.”

[Hmm?]

After sitting by the window for two hours, lost in thought, Camilla finally called out to Zeno. Startled, he quickly approached her, having been warily observing her unusual mood all day.

“Are twins common around here?”

[Twins?]

“Specifically, cases where one twin dies, and only the other survives. Is that a frequent occurrence?”

[What are you talking about? Why are we suddenly discussing me?]

“It’s not about you. I saw a woman recently…”

Camilla abruptly stopped speaking when she heard the knock at her door.

“Miss, it’s Luve.”

“Come in.”

Luve, the family butler, stepped inside, his sharp eyes scanning the room.

“What is it?”

“I thought I heard voices.”

“Voices?”

Camilla thought. As the head of Black Shadow, his keen senses were unmatched. She realized she would need to be more careful when speaking with spirits in the future.

“I was alone,” she replied casually.

“My mistake,” Luve said, bowing politely. Then he handed her a piece of paper.

“What’s this?”

“The guest list for your upcoming party, as you requested.”

“Ah.”

In two weeks, a party would be held—her birthday party, hosted at none other than her own residence. Since she had little experience organizing such events, she had asked Luve to compile a list of essential guests.

As Camilla scanned the list, she let out a soft sigh. This birthday was significant—it would be her

In every life she had lived, she had always died before her next birthday came around. But she had never known it was her final celebration and had inevitably ruined the day each time.

Petro had declined her invitation. By then, he was already deeply infatuated with Laila and had stopped even pretending to show kindness toward Camilla.

Devastated by his absence, she had left the party mid-event, abandoning the numerous guests in attendance. Her absence caused chaos, and the party ended in shambles. Naturally, the Duke of Sorpel had scolded her harshly afterward.

Even recalling it now made her sigh.

At least Petro wouldn’t ruin her party this year. Perhaps it would be a quiet, uneventful evening.

“If there’s anyone else you’d like to invite, let me know,” Luve said.

“Got it.”

Camilla skimmed through the list. Some names were familiar, while others were new to her. Then, on the final page, her eyes froze on one particular name.

…The Crown Prince?

“Why is the Crown Prince on this list?”

“It’s customary for invitations to be sent to the royal family for events hosted by a ducal household.”

Camilla reassured herself. The invitation was merely a gesture of courtesy; there was no way the Crown Prince would actually attend.

****

“Long time no see, Lady Camilla.”

The moment Camilla came face-to-face with Crown Prince Edsen, she instinctively searched for her trusty “shield.”

“…Your Highness,” she greeted stiffly, bowing.

“At least you remember who I am,” Edsen said with a smirk.

“Excuse me?”

“I thought perhaps you’d forgotten, given your lack of response to my gift.”

“Gift…?”

Ah, yes. After the hunting tournament, Edsen had sent her a

of gifts. Not just one or two, but a veritable hoard.

“…I’ve been unwell recently and didn’t have the chance to send a reply, Your Highness.”

Camilla realized too late that she had failed to acknowledge the extravagant gifts from none other than the Crown Prince.

“You seem to fall ill quite often,” he remarked.

“I’m frailer than I appear,” she said, putting on her best impression of a pitiable, sickly woman.

Feigning illness was second nature to her, especially after her time in a hospital drama where her tearful performance as a terminal patient had left audiences sobbing.

“I see,” Edsen murmured, leaning closer. His intense gaze scrutinized her expression as he continued, “I almost thought you hadn’t even opened my gifts.”

It was true. All the gifts were still piled in a corner of the storage room, untouched.

“Did you like them?”

“Of course. They were wonderful.”

“Which one was your favorite?”

“How could I possibly choose? Everything Your Highness sent was equally precious to me.”

Camilla delivered her answer without hesitation, maintaining perfect composure.

Edsen stared at her for a moment, then leaned in so close that she could feel his breath.

“You didn’t open them, did you?”

“Of course, I did.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

Camilla fought to keep her expression neutral.

“You know,” Edsen said, smirking, “your smile becomes particularly infuriating when you lie.”

“From now on, don’t lie to anyone but me,” he added with a grin, leaning even closer.

Startled, Camilla leaned back further—only to lose her balance.

“Careful,” a calm voice said as an arm caught her mid-fall.

“…Arison.”

It was Arison’s arm supporting her.

“….”

“….”

Edsen and Arison’s eyes met, and the air between them grew cold and tense.

Camilla, alarmed by the brewing storm, quickly straightened up, tugging on Arison’s sleeve. She bowed to Edsen with forced politeness.

“Enjoy the party, Your Highness.”

Without waiting for his reply, she grabbed Arison and hurriedly walked away.

“What did he say? Did he do something to you?” Arison demanded.

“Shh! Quiet!”

Camilla clamped a hand over his mouth, glancing around nervously.

Even Arison couldn’t get away with harming royalty.

“Just follow me,” she said, dragging him toward the terrace to escape the situation.

Unbeknownst to her, all eyes in the hall were on them.

***

“Wasn’t that Arison from the Sephra family?”

“Yes, it was.”

The sight of the infamous Arison being led away by Camilla like a meek puppy left the guests in shock.

Those who had seen similar scenes at the academy simply shook their heads, having grown somewhat accustomed to such oddities.

“Hmm.”

Even Edsen seemed intrigued, watching the pair with keen interest.