A fortune-telling princess

[My brother didn’t go to a good place, did he?]

Amy had seen it too—the moment Professor JB died, his soul dragged into the ground by countless black hands, accompanied by his agonized screams.

For someone who claimed death was happiness, was he happy at that moment?

“He murdered innocent people. Do you think he went to a good place? If that guy ended up somewhere nice, then no one in this world would ever deserve to go to hell.”

[Still… isn’t it too harsh to say that about someone who’s dead?]

“Oh, are you defending him because he’s your brother now?”

People without siblings really must be missing out.

[Kyuu?]

King, the tiger cub who had been wandering nearby, nudged Camilla’s foot gently as if to comfort her.

“That’s right, King. You can be my sibling.”

Camilla picked up King and stroked his small head.

There was something soothing about holding such a small, living creature. The sight of the women’s souls watching Professor JB being dragged to hell had left her feeling restless, but with King in her arms, she felt calm again.

The dead women had cried tears of mixed emotions before bidding her farewell. Then, one by one, they had vanished.

‘They probably went to see the ones they wanted to say goodbye to the most.’

Watching the forlorn figures disappear had left her feeling melancholy. Yet, King’s presence helped settle her heart.

[At least it’s all over now.]

Amy sighed, her voice soft and weary.

She had spent so long watching her brother, feeling both anger and sadness. She had wanted to stop his killing spree, but there was nothing she could do. As a ghost, all she could do was observe.

Perhaps it was for the best that it ended before he committed more sins.

“It’s not over.”

[Huh?]

“This is just the beginning.”

Camilla continued to stroke King’s fur, her eyes drifting toward the pile of documents on the table. They were the files Luve had gathered at her request—the records of the women who had been murdered.

“They’re still left.”

The reason Professor JB’s murders hadn’t been exposed was clear: no one had known they were murders.

Their parents had hidden the truth.

Professor JB had staged each death to look like a suicide. The parents, desperate to avoid exposure of their own abuses, had covered up their daughters’ real causes of death. They had fabricated accidents to explain their passing.

They were terrified.

If the truth came out, people would dig into why the daughters might have chosen to take their own lives.

But now, with Professor JB’s capture, the lies had unraveled.

The parents who had staged their daughters’ deaths were in a frenzy, doing everything they could to suppress the story. They were using all their influence to ensure the truth didn’t spread.

Her weapon: public opinion.

There was nothing more powerful or terrifying than public sentiment. As a former celebrity, Camilla knew this better than anyone.

Though this world lacked the internet and cell phones, there were still plenty of ways to sway the masses. Newspapers, flyers, and posters—all of these could be used.

Camilla planned to utilize every possible avenue.

She had written a detailed account of the case and distributed it to every media outlet across the empire.

She had shamelessly borrowed the might of the Sorpel family.

Duke Sorpel had not only granted her request but also actively supported her efforts.

By tomorrow, the entire empire would be in an uproar again.

The adoptive parents of the murdered women would do everything in their power to quash the rumors and keep their crimes hidden, but with Duke Sorpel involved, their efforts would be futile.

While public interest might not last long, in the status-conscious world of nobility, they would never again move as freely as before.

But there was still one more matter left to resolve.

[Hmm? What is it?]

Noticing Camilla’s gaze on her, Amy tilted her head in confusion.

“Amy.”

[Yeah?]

“Where are the people who made you like this?”

[…!]

Amy’s expression froze.

****

“Ugh…”

Waking from a deep sleep, Binter felt his throat dry and parched.

“Damn it.”

Noticing the empty glass on his bedside table, he cursed under his breath and climbed out of bed.

After glaring briefly at his wife for failing to refill the glass, he headed toward the kitchen.

“Yawn…”

Yawning continuously, he shuffled into the kitchen and made his way to the cabinet to grab a new glass.

“Huh? What’s…?”

His steps halted abruptly. In the corner of the kitchen, something was moving.

His face twisted in irritation.

It had to be the new kid they had brought in recently.

He had locked the door! Who dared to open it?

“You little rat!”

Binter strode toward the figure.

He stopped again. The child crouched in the corner looked… strange.

The boy he had brought from the orphanage was short-haired and small, but clearly a boy. Yet, the figure before him had shoulder-length hair and a much smaller frame—undoubtedly a girl.

The most unsettling thing, however, was the faint blue glow emanating from her body.

In the pitch-dark kitchen, where there wasn’t even a window, the glow was unnatural.

As he stared in bewilderment, the child slowly turned her head toward him.

“You… you’re…!”

Binter’s legs gave out, and he collapsed to the floor.

[I’m hungry.]

“Ah…”

[Mister… I’m so hungry.]

“Ah… ahhh…”

No sound came from his throat. All he could do was crawl backward, desperate to put distance between himself and the child.

He recognized her. How could he not?

She was the child he had brought in last year.

The problem? She had died right in front of him.

“This… this is impossible!”

She had died less than a month after arriving from the orphanage. Weak and malnourished, she had fallen ill after just a few days of starvation and hard labor.

Of course, he hadn’t bothered to call a healer or give her medicine. Any money spent on such things was better spent on good alcohol.

When she died, he’d been furious—not because she had passed, but because of the loss of a servant. For weeks, he had been too angry to focus on work.

Why was she here now?

[Mister… I’m so hungry…]

“Ahhh!”

Binter screamed and bolted from the kitchen.

[Please… Mister…]

Her voice followed him, but he didn’t dare look back.

“Ahhh!”

Tripping over something, he let out another scream. But no one came to help.

Desperately, he crawled toward his wife’s room on the second floor.

“Ah!”

A chilling noise froze him in place.

The sound came from the storage room beneath the stairs—the very place where he often punished the children.

The scraping grew louder, but Binter couldn’t bring himself to move closer.

“Ahh!”

The storage door creaked open on its own. A faintly glowing blue hand stretched out from within.

[Mister, it’s cold… so cold in here.]

It was another child—a boy from three years ago, the one Binter had locked in the storage room. The boy was staring at him with tear-filled eyes.

Memories surged back. He had punished the boy for being too noisy, even when the child begged and cried that he was in pain.

[It hurts… my head… it hurts so much… please let me out.]

“No… no…”

As the boy crawled toward him, Binter scrambled backward, desperate to escape.

“Ahhh!”

He fled up the stairs, screaming.

“Dear, wake up!”

Bursting into the bedroom, Binter froze again.

“Ah… ahhh!”

Someone was strangling his wife on the bed, their body glowing with the same eerie blue light.

[Why did you do that to me?]

The mournful voice sent shivers down his spine.

As the figure on the bed turned to face him, Binter’s heart sank.

“You… you’re…!”

It was Amy.

[Why did you kill me?]

“N-No! It wasn’t on purpose! I swear!”

[Why? Why did you do it?!]

Amy advanced on him, her hands reaching for his throat.

“Gah!”

This wasn’t a dream. The pressure around his neck was real. Binter blacked out under the suffocating grip.

As the couple lost consciousness, the bedroom window creaked open, and someone slipped inside.

Camilla, riding her black wolf, entered the room.

“They’re weaker than I expected,” she muttered, clicking her tongue as she surveyed the unconscious couple.

She had thought they might hold their ground after all the lives they’d destroyed, but it seemed not.

“Well done.”

She reached out to stroke the head of the black wolf circling her.