A fortune-telling princess

“Where does Dennis live?”

“Over there, that house… Oh! Look over there!”

“…What?”

“That’s Dennis over there!”

“What?”

“Dennis!”

At the far end of the opposite road, a boy was walking toward them. He was rather tall, and Rania enthusiastically waved at him with both hands, smiling brightly.

“…”

But Camilla couldn’t bring herself to be happy.

Instead, she cursed silently to herself.

[W-Why…]

The water ghost, Bess, who had been giddy with anticipation since yesterday at the thought of finally seeing her child, was now frozen in place with her mouth agape.

“Rania?”

The boy recognized Rania as he ran toward them, his face lighting up with delight. Camilla wanted to feel the same relief and joy at finally finding the boy.

If not for the ghost accompanying him.

[D-Dennis…]

Bess began calling the boy’s name repeatedly, her voice full of sorrow and longing.

The problem was, she wasn’t looking at the boy. Her eyes were fixed on the ghost of a five-year-old child standing by his side.

And worse, the ghost-child didn’t even seem to notice Bess. No matter how much she cried out and drew closer, it was as if she didn’t exist to him.

Camilla’s gaze shifted to Rania. Standing right next to her was a female ghost who bore her exact likeness, with the same lack of awareness as the child ghost.

A ghost with no awareness, yet identical to its living counterpart?

Camilla let out a soft, bitter laugh, her expression cooling as suspicion and unease settled into her mind.

This wasn’t something she could dismiss as mere chance.

“Camilla! He’s the Dennis we were looking for, right?”

“…Yeah, looks like it.”

She smiled—a radiant, dazzling smile.

“That’s great! Dennis, let’s go inside and talk.”

“Sure.”

“Camilla, let’s go.”

Watching Rania and Dennis walk ahead, Camilla remained silent for a moment before following after them at a measured pace.

She needed to figure out exactly what was going on here.

***

[Dennis… my child…]

Even after entering the house, Bess continued to cry out to her son.

But the ghost-child remained unresponsive, staring intently at the boy who called himself Dennis.

“Camilla, how do you know Dennis?”

“I’ve never seen you before,” the boy added, tilting his head in confusion as he carried drinks from the kitchen.

“True. This is our first meeting.”

“Then why were you looking for me?”

“It wasn’t me. It was your mother.”

“…What?”

“Your biological mother, who left you at the orphanage.”

The boy’s eyes widened, and Rania’s jaw dropped.

“Th-That can’t be…!”

“She’s already dead—!”

Rania cut herself off, biting her lip as panic flickered across her face.

She knows that Bess—the boy’s mother—is dead?

“She begged me to find you, desperately so.”

“You really met Dennis’s mother?”

“Yeah.”

“But how…”

“How else would I know about Dennis if I hadn’t heard it directly from her?”

“That’s…”

Rania’s mouth opened, as if to argue, but she stopped herself. Her face showed growing confusion.

“Where is she now?”

After a long pause, Rania finally asked the most neutral question she could muster.

“Dennis’s mother?”

“Yes.”

Camilla almost said

Instead, she gave a faint smile.

“Anyway, you’re really Dennis, right?”

“Y-Yeah.”

The boy, still visibly rattled, nodded quickly.

Camilla studied his face carefully, not missing a single expression. Feeling the weight of her gaze, the boy shifted uncomfortably and turned his head away.

“…Hm?”

Camilla’s brow furrowed slightly.

A wave of nausea swept over her, and her vision blurred.

She hadn’t touched the drink the boy had brought—it was too suspicious. Yet here she was, feeling faint and dizzy.

“Camilla, are you okay?”

Rania’s voice was full of concern, but her lips curled into a sly smile.

That was the last thing Camilla saw before everything went black.

“Are you sure that woman’s dead?”

“She is.”

“Then what’s this? Is she lying?”

“That’s…”

“She said Dennis’s mother asked her to find him. No one else could have known. Are you absolutely sure she’s not alive?”

“I confirmed the body myself. You know our rules—we never take in children with unresolved risks. When we tried to track her down, she was already dead!”

“Then how does she know anything?!”

Familiar voices reached Camilla through the haze of her returning consciousness. It was Rania and Dennis, engaged in a heated discussion.

Her head throbbed, the pain sharp enough to make her swear under her breath. She could feel their gazes turn toward her as she stirred.

“Awake?”

Rania’s voice was calm, almost cheerful, as if nothing was out of the ordinary.

“What is this about?”

Camilla sighed as she assessed her situation—bound to a chair, of all things.

“What’s next, a vintage mobster film?” she muttered dryly.

“Did you use sleep fumes?”

“As expected, you caught on quickly,” Rania said with a clap of her hands, feigning admiration.

Camilla groaned inwardly. She had underestimated Rania—and now she was paying for it.

No. If she had, they wouldn’t have revealed their true colors.

“We were planning to dispose of you quietly,” Rania began, her tone matter-of-fact.

“Dispose of me?”

“Yes. You were becoming a nuisance, and removing you seemed the easiest solution.”

The way she said it, as though it was the most natural thing in the world, sent a chill through the room.

“But then plans changed.”

“Changed?”

“Imagine my surprise when I learned you’re the owner of the Ghost Merchant Guild.”

Rania’s face bloomed into an eerily sweet smile.

“Instead of killing you outright, we figured it’d be far more useful to keep you around for exploitation.”

“Not much of a pushover, you know.”

“You won’t have a choice.”

Rania laughed, a light, amused sound that only deepened Camilla’s scowl.

“And what about the real Rania?” Camilla asked, her voice sharp.

“…What?”

“And Dennis? You killed them both, didn’t you? That’s how you took their bodies.”

For the first time, Rania and Dennis faltered, their confident masks cracking.

“You’re a terrible actress, you know that?”

Camilla’s smirk deepened.

“So it’s true,” she said.

“You stole their bodies.”

Rania, recovering quickly, sighed and stepped closer.

“Fine. Believe what you want.”

Her expression hardened as she drew a dagger from her sleeve.

“But you’ll have no use for the truth soon enough.”

With a swift motion, Rania cut Camilla’s palm, collecting the blood in a small vial. The liquid inside turned a vivid green upon mixing with her blood.

“Wh—”

Camilla’s protest was cut short as Rania raised the vial to her lips and drank.

“How do I look?”

The figure standing before Camilla now had silver hair, crimson eyes, and sharp features—her exact likeness.