A fortune-telling princess

‘It was all because our souls had been switched.’

Back then, she hadn’t known the truth and simply thought she was an unlucky child. Her so-called father had reminded her of it constantly.

‘You’re nothing but bad luck! Pah!’

Assuming others felt the same way, Camilla hadn’t dared to hope for adoption.

Because of that, she spent her entire childhood in the orphanage until she debuted as an actress at fifteen. Naturally, she had to care for the younger children in the meantime.

“Here or there, it’s all the same…”

The children weren’t much different. The very young ones, ignorant of the world, openly craved affection and welcomed any visitors.

In contrast, the older ones avoided approaching volunteers.

Camilla’s gaze lingered on a particular child—a girl about six years old clutching a teddy bear almost as big as herself.

Camilla couldn’t look away from the girl and her bear.

“Ah!”

The little girl, tottering along, suddenly lost her balance and nearly fell.

But miraculously, she steadied herself and stood upright again.

“Hehe.”

With a beaming smile, the girl hugged her bear even tighter.

“What the…”

Camilla, who had been watching, shook her head slightly.

“What’s wrong?”

“…Nothing.”

Camilla turned away from the child when Petro gave her a curious glance. Internally, she sighed repeatedly.

****

After their snack, the children dispersed to play with the club members.

Laila sang songs with a group of children, while Petro sparred playfully with others using wooden swords.

“Hm?”

One child came running toward Camilla—it was the same child who had cried earlier after failing to get a candy from Petro.

“Read!”

“…You want me to read to you?”

“Yes!”

The child held out a picture book.

“Princess Lulu.”

Taking the book, Camilla skimmed its contents and chuckled.

Aside from the name, it was strikingly similar to “Snow White” from her world. The resemblance in the setup was uncanny.

A moment later, she began reading.

“Mirror, mirror, on the wall, who is the fairest of them all?”

Camilla read the story aloud, embodying every character.

“That would be Princess Lulu, the one who possesses beauty beyond measure!”

By the time the story reached its midpoint, not only was the little boy sitting beside Camilla, but the other children had also gathered around her in a tight cluster.

Even the adults who had been playing with the children stopped what they were doing and turned their attention to her.

‘This is odd.’

It was such a well-known tale that everyone already knew how it ended. Yet no one could take their eyes or ears off Camilla.

Was the story always this gripping?

Even though they all knew what would happen next, they watched her as if holding their breath, their hearts pounding in anticipation.

The children, too, were mesmerized. They sat with their mouths slightly open, their gazes glued to Camilla.

“What?!”

“……!”

Camilla’s voice, suddenly filled with murderous intent, rang out and filled the room.

“Bring me the heart of Princess Lulu at once!”

Drawing on vocal techniques she had learned on stage, she delivered the line in a single breath, her expression exuding the pure malice of an evil queen.

“Eek…”

“Ah… ah…”

“Waaaah!”

Startled by the sobs erupting from all directions, Camilla paused, her eyes widening in confusion.

“It’s scary!”

“Waaah!”

“The queen is so scary!”

“The queen is evil!”

“She’s a witch!”

‘Maybe I overdid it?’

Camilla scratched her cheek sheepishly.

“Wow…”

Meanwhile, Laila, who had been watching from the side, couldn’t stop gasping in awe. Throughout Camilla’s performance, she hadn’t dared to even breathe too loudly.

“Camilla is amazing. How can she act so well?”

Laila had read stories to children plenty of times, as had others.

But Camilla’s storytelling was on a completely different level. It wasn’t just a reading—it was like watching a full-fledged play.

“Agreed,” Petro added, his gaze still fixed on Camilla with a look of admiration.

Lately, she had been surprising him more and more. She was so different from the Camilla he had once known that he almost believed she was a completely different person.

“That’s too cruel! Waaah!”

“Fairy tales are supposed to be cruel.”

Despite her nonchalant response to the children’s cries, Camilla’s awkward discomfort was evident. Laila and Petro burst into laughter at the sight.

It was late at night, the hour when everyone was fast asleep.

Camilla, exhausted from an unexpected visit to an orphanage earlier that day, had gone to bed earlier than usual.

Amid the stillness and darkness of Camilla’s room, a figure silently appeared—a young man in his early twenties.

He had dark gray hair and eyes as blue as the pre-dawn sky. His appearance was striking, but what stood out most were the countless accessories adorning his body. Black rings adorned every finger, and his ears were nearly covered in black-studded jewelry.

The man stood silently for a moment, observing the sleeping Camilla before stepping toward her.

Before he could take another step, something yanked him back and dragged him to the far corner of the room, away from Camilla.

“Shh!”

The soft but firm voice belonged to Dorman, Camilla’s ever-watchful attendant. Smiling faintly, Dorman clamped a hand over the intruder’s mouth.

“Quiet now.”

Without hesitation, Dorman grabbed the man by the collar and leaped out the window, as though jumping from the second floor was an everyday occurrence.

“What the…?”

Even after landing lightly, Dorman kept his grip on the man’s neck.

“What are you doing here?”

“It’s been a while, senior,” the man replied, entirely unfazed. Instead of struggling, he greeted Dormant politely.

“Senior? I’m not your senior.”

Dorman clicked his tongue, correcting him.

“I was a higher-level administrator, and you were just a lowly grunt. That doesn’t make me your senior.”

For the first time, a flicker of emotion crossed the man’s otherwise impassive face—disappointment.

“So, what brings you here? And in your physical form, no less?”

“I needed to be present for… Dorman-nim to see me,” the man replied with a formal bow.

“You came to see me? Then why were you lurking around Lady Camilla’s room?”

“I have a request for her.”

“A request?”

“Yes.”

“What kind of request?”

“I’d like to explain it to her directly.”

“You want to meet her?”

“Yes.”

“Lady Camilla?”

“Yes.”

“Are you serious?”

“…? Yes.”

Dormant stared at him, incredulous, before finally releasing his grip. Smiling warmly, he clapped the man on the shoulder.

“All right. If that’s the case, go ahead,

”

“…?”

The sudden shift in Dorman’s demeanor—from wary to overly friendly—left Havel feeling a deep sense of unease.

***

“Who did you say he was?”

“One of my colleagues—a fellow soul administrator,” Dorman replied.

“‘Administrator’ seems like a bit much…” Havel interjected, flustered.

“He’s a very capable one,” Dormant said, cutting him off.

“So, he’s above you?” Camilla asked, narrowing her eyes.

“Above me? No, I—!”

“Currently, yes,” Dorman answered smoothly.

“Wait, no, that’s not—!”

Havel began waving his hands in protest but froze mid-motion.

“…Why are you holding your shoe?”

Camilla had risen from her seat, casually slipped off one of her shoes, and was now holding it in her hand.

“I’ve got a lot to say to you,” she said with a pointed smile.

“Why the shoe, though?”

“You’re not one of those shapeshifters, right? Not going to suddenly turn into a woman or something?”

“What?”

“Should I hit you to start?”

“Wait, what?”

Havel turned to Dormant for an explanation, but the man simply smiled, clearly enjoying the spectacle.

Dorman’s satisfaction was plain as day—his delight in sharing the “burden” was palpable.

***

“So, let me get this straight. You came to me for help?” Camilla asked a few moments later.

“Yes.”

“You want me to convince a soul about something?”

“That’s correct.”

“Who told you to put your hands down?”

Havel sat on the floor, one knee on the ground, holding his hands up in surrender. He couldn’t comprehend why he had to endure this humiliating posture but dared not protest further.

For the first time, he had learned that even a shoe could be a fearsome weapon.

“Unbelievable,” Camilla muttered, shaking her head in disbelief.

“And you really think I’m going to help you?”

She had been itching for a chance to vent her frustrations. Every time her tangled situation came to mind, she clenched her teeth and made a mental promise.

“When I meet the higher-ups responsible for this mess, I’ll rip out every strand of their hair.”

And now here he was.

“A favor? Seriously?”

She scoffed, crossing her arms.

“You must be mistaken if you think I’m going to help you.”

“N-no, I think there’s been some misunderstanding—”

“My superior can be a bit oblivious at times,” Dorman interrupted smoothly, “so please forgive him with your generous heart.”

Camilla clicked her tongue again. Superior, subordinate—both were equally shameless.

“Someone might think you’re the victim here,” she said, her tone dripping with sarcasm.

What kind of audacity did it take to ask for help after making such a mess?

“Still,” Dorman interjected, “why not at least hear him out?”

“Why should I?”

“Building a connection with a soul administrator could be beneficial.”

“And how, exactly, would that benefit me?”

“Well, for starters, they wouldn’t drag away the spirits lingering around you.”

Come to think of it, Zeno, Derin, and Ferrol had all been conspicuously absent. They were likely hiding because of Havel’s presence.