A Fortune-telling Princess - Chapter 315

—————
This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
—————

“Don’t look at it.”
[…Something feels off about this.]
In that fleeting moment when I caught sight of the child’s face, I couldn’t shake the chilling sensation that washed over me.
It was utterly different from an ordinary spirit. Having lived as one of the dead for countless ages and encountered numerous souls, I had never felt anything like this before.
[So that’s why….]
When I entered the home yesterday, I too had seen that child. What puzzled me was how Camilla pretended not to notice.
She was notoriously impatient with the dead who sought her out, openly dismissive of them—yet with child spirits, her demeanor was different.
She still complained, but she never turned away from them.
Yet yesterday, even though the presence appeared to be a child spirit, her attitude had shifted entirely.
Upon seeing the young soul crouched there, Camilla had turned away with icy indifference, refusing to acknowledge it.
Now I understood why. The more I observed that spirit, the more something felt distinctly wrong about it.
“It’s no ordinary ghost. It’s a spirit bound to someone.”
[A spirit bound to someone?]
Was she referring to those spirits that had been tethered to bodies when the Eba Cult members switched vessels?
“No, it’s different from that.”
Even as Camilla continued speaking, she never once glanced backward—afraid that her eyes might meet the child’s.
“That one is….”
Camilla exhaled a short, weary breath.
“A spirit that casts curses.”
[A curse?]
I had encountered such a spirit only once, long ago.
It was during a film shoot in a rural village. A director who enjoyed such things had dragged me along to visit a shaman who was said to be extraordinarily powerful.
‘And I saw it.’
The spirit of a young girl—emaciated to a horrifying degree, her entire being condensed into malice and resentment.
The moment I laid eyes on her, I recalled an old tale: that shamans would sometimes capture children, starve them to death, and use their spirits to amplify their own divine power.
Such wrongfully murdered children would be used to divine the future or inflict curses upon others.
‘They said misfortune would befall anyone who didn’t obey that shaman’s words.’
The shaman had become renowned for the calamities and illnesses that struck those who refused the talismans or failed to comply with orders.
So remarkably powerful, it seemed—but now I wondered if this shaman had been using such a child to cast these curses?
Yet I had doubted it. What era was this? Surely no madman would starve a child to death and exploit their spirit for personal gain?
‘…No. The world is full of madness.’
So I asked directly. Of the shaman.
‘By any chance… have you ever killed a child? By starvation?’
‘…!’
The moment those words left my lips, the shaman’s face froze solid, and they cast us out without another word. Curses and vile insults poured from their mouth.
They shrieked that the divine had been angered, that impurity had been brought upon them, that we must never show our faces there again.
The next day, I returned to the shaman’s home. I needed to know for certain.
But the shaman was gone. The house stood empty. They had fled in a single night.
‘They ran.’
That confirmed it for me. Yes, that bastard truly had killed the child…
If the dead child had been an ordinary spirit, I could have at least tried to communicate. But the child clinging to the Shaman had become bound to her—it listened only to the Shaman’s words and followed her every command.
After that, I made considerable effort to track down the Shaman’s whereabouts, but it proved futile. Wherever she had hidden herself, finding her seemed an impossible task.
Yet I couldn’t exactly report to the police that she appeared to have committed murder without any concrete evidence to back up my claims.
‘I even searched for the child.’
But I found nothing of substance. I compared the child’s face against the missing children reports from the area, but no matches emerged.
It seemed she had likely taken an abandoned child who had never been properly registered at birth and put it to use.
In any case, that incident had left me with a lingering unease that persisted even now. And at this very moment, a child bearing a similar aura from back then had appeared before my eyes.
‘So that child is also bound to someone and being exploited.’
It couldn’t be coincidence that it was crouching in front of my home.
‘The way it reacted the moment I stepped outside—’
It seems I’m the target. Is this thing going to keep sitting in front of my house like this indefinitely?
“Damn it.”
What now? I’d be grateful if it was just passing by and happened to rest in front of my home for a moment. Why does it keep lingering here?
‘Just ignore it. Just ignore it.’
As long as I don’t make eye contact, it should be fine. Just that.
I deliberately averted my gaze from the grotesque Child Spirit and hurriedly left the spot.
* * *
“….”
…It’s definitely me.
‘That thing is definitely targeting me.’
As I stepped out of the Ghost Merchant Store, I exhaled a long sigh upon seeing the child—or rather, the Child Spirit—crouching in front of the store entrance.
That child had been present everywhere I went today. I had tried to ignore it continuously, but I could no longer manage it.
‘I can’t live with this weight on my shoulders!’
The sensation of being watched throughout the entire day was far more unsettling than I cared to admit.
“Hey.”
In the end, I approached the child.
Whoosh.
At my call, the child lifted its head. The moment I made eye contact with the child for the first time, my entire body erupted in goosebumps.
Resentment—the child’s hollow yet profoundly resentful gaze, stained blood-red like crimson dye, was fixed entirely upon me.
The instant I realized this, the child lunged toward me with astonishing speed, reaching out its hands.
[Camilla!]
At the same moment I heard Zeno’s urgent cry, I unleashed my holy power.
It was the force that spirits feared most. Yet the Child Ghost seemed incapable of feeling fear—it seized my arm without hesitation.
In an instant, brilliant light poured forth, and that radiance seeped into the body of the child gripping my arm.
As my holy power became entangled and connected with the child’s in that moment, visions flooded into my mind.
They were the child’s memories.
* * *
Hungry… so hungry….
More than two weeks had passed since the child was locked inside a small wooden box.
The child, who had been abandoned on the streets as an infant and lived a wandering beggar’s life, was approached one day by a man.
“Would you like to come with me, little one?”
“…Why?”
“Because I want to become your father.”
With his warm, gentle expression and soothing voice, the child—enchanted as though under a spell—grasped the man’s hand tightly, feeling genuine warmth and affection for the first time in her life.
“Really… will you truly become my father?”
“Yes, we’ll be together from now on.”
“Hehe.”
“Forever…”
So thirsty… so hungry…
Please… please, let me out of here.
That happiness was devastatingly brief. Upon arriving at a Deep Forest Cave following the man, the child was immediately imprisoned in a small wooden box.
A cramped box where her legs could not even stretch, where not a single ray of light penetrated.
No matter how desperately she cried out for help, for release, it was all in vain.
One day… two days… four days…
Creak.
“…!”
As thirst and hunger clouded her mind into delirium, a tiny hole in the box opened, and a hand reached through.
It was the same hand that had gently stroked her head and held her so tenderly.
Only a few sips of water and the smallest portion of food.
The moment these were tossed through the hole, it sealed shut again. The child, unable to think of anything else, devoured them ravenously.
Thus the hours of torment crawled forward. When thirst and hunger reached their unbearable peak, when breath itself seemed to fail, only then came a meager ration.
First after three days, then four… then five…
Scratch… scratch… scratch.
I want out… please let me out…
Her cries eventually ceased, and the only sound emanating from the box became singular: the child’s fingernails clawing at the wooden walls.
Blood flowed, nails broke away, flesh tore, yet still the child scratched, as though her very plea for release depended upon it.
As if it were the only thing she could possibly do.
When a month had finally passed, even the sound of scratching fell silent.
Creak.
Only then did the tightly sealed box door open. Inside lay the child, reduced to skin and bone, motionless.
Yet the man gazing upon her still wore that same gentle smile from their first meeting.

—————
This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
—————