A Fortune-telling Princess - Chapter 7

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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But that smile didn’t last long. At the sudden grip around his collar, Jelard couldn’t help but flinch.
‘I have a rather nasty temperament, you see.’
People who dislike me—I dislike them right back. I’m not virtuous enough to endure endless baseless criticism and mockery.
If Camilla had done something wrong to this man before I arrived here, I’d be willing to tolerate such accusations to some degree.
But as far as I knew, Camilla had never once treated the head chef Jelard in such a manner.
In other words, his current rudeness stemmed purely from looking down on me—a transgression born entirely from contempt.
Crack!
‘I’m a woman who’s practiced collar grabs in acting hundreds of times.’
Strength flowed naturally into the hand gripping his collar.
Though this body wasn’t mine, the skill remained intact. I’d mastered exactly how to seize a collar with perfect tension.
Jelard’s body bent forward involuntarily.
“W-what are you doing!”
Jelard quickly regained his senses and shouted with all his might.
In the Kitchen, he was king. A collar grab in front of so many onlookers—what was this…!
“Listen carefully.”
But Camilla paid no mind. Instead, she pulled his collar even tighter, her grip unyielding.
“This is the height.”
“…What?”
“When I won the bet, it was exactly at this height.”
Camilla brought her face close to his.
“If you look down at me with those eyes even one more time…”
At her soft, whispered threat, Jelard swallowed hard without thinking.
“I’ll shatter your kneecaps and have you crawling for the rest of your life.”
“B-but the Duke won’t stand for this…!”
“Yeah, I know. I’ll get scolded. Might be confined to my room for days.”
“So please…!”
“What of it?”
“What?”
“It’s not like this is my first time. What of it?”
“N-no, that’s not it! The Duke…!”
“I’ll take my punishment.”
Camilla’s lips curved into a slight smile.
Though I was mindful of Duke Sorpel’s reaction, I had no intention of being blackmailed by anyone else.
“You think the Duke would kill me over breaking one servant?”
“…!”
“Do I look incapable of it?”
I-I suspect you’re more than capable…
Watching Jelard’s lips tremble silently, Camilla smiled brightly before releasing his collar with a flick.
Yet Jelard remained bent over, his body rigid with tension. Straightening up now felt like it would truly shatter his knees.
“Well then, I’ll make good use of the Kitchen.”
Leaving Jelard behind, I settled back into my seat. Then, in a hushed voice as though speaking to myself, I called out to someone.
“Perol.”
[Yes.]
The head chef’s ghost, Perol, who had been drifting aimlessly about the room, drew close to my side.
“Are you ready?”
[Of course!]
“Let’s begin.”
The moment my words finished, Perol’s two hands slipped smoothly over mine.
* * *
“Lord Ludvil has earned considerable merit in this operation, I’m told. His accomplishments were quite remarkable. Here are the relevant documents.”
As his aide explained, Duke Sorpel carefully reviewed the papers before him.
“He’s doing well.”
“Yes, truly worthy of Lord Ludvil.”
Duke Sorpel set down the report with a satisfied expression.
….
His gaze then drifted habitually to one particular spot—a vase brimming with baby’s breath. It was something Camilla had placed there.
It was a sight he had often seen when his mother was alive.
His mother, who had been particularly fond of baby’s breath, would frequently arrange them herself in the Study and in her chambers.
‘I’m not particularly fond of flowers, but….’
Seeing the baby’s breath arranged in the Study stirred something peculiar within me.
That morning when I had taken a walk not long ago, the image of Camilla, cradling an armful of baby’s breath, smiling brightly at me, suddenly came to mind.
Had that girl ever smiled at me like that before?
‘And it’s already been over a week.’
I had thought it would end in a day or two.
Yet Camilla had not missed a single day for over a week now, adorning both my Study and Bedroom with baby’s breath.
“It’s not bad.”
“Sir?”
“Is Camilla still not eating properly these days?”
“Ah….”
At the unexpected question, Jacter’s eyes widened slightly.
Duke Sorpel had inquired about Camilla’s mistakes or excesses before, but never had he asked after her wellbeing in such an ordinary manner.
He had issued commands for her to do things, but he had never once shown interest in Miss Camilla herself….
“I shall look into it at once.”
Jacter replied hastily, his voice somewhat flustered.
Knock, knock.
At that moment, a knock sounded, and a man entered. A man in his early thirties—the butler, Rube.
In his hands as he stepped into the Study was a tray of refreshments.
Rube bowed respectfully before quickly setting the food from the tray onto the desk.
“What is all this?”
“I thought you might be hungry, so I prepared it.”
At the butler’s words, Duke Sorpel glanced at the clock and nodded.
Whenever he lingered long in the Study, Rube would often bring him simple meals.
“I’ll eat well.”
Jacter, the Duke’s aide, looked far more delighted than Duke Sorpel himself. Having eaten dinner hastily, his stomach had been sending signals of protest for the past few minutes.
“Please try some as well, Your Grace.”
“Hmm?”
Duke Sorpel regarded the butler with a puzzled expression.
Normally, once he set the food down, Rube would leave immediately. Yet today, he stood beside me, strangely insisting that I eat.
Duke Sorpel studied the butler Rube in silence for a moment, then rose from his seat and moved toward the table where the food awaited.
“Soup, then.”
Beside it lay freshly baked bread, perfect for accompanying the soup.
“….”
Yet as Duke Sorpel gazed at the soup, his eyes widened slightly.
‘Could it be….’
Uncharacteristically, he hastened to lift a spoon, bringing a generous mouthful of soup to his lips. As he swallowed, his expression deepened with astonishment.
“This soup is….”
That soup from long ago. The one he had cherished so dearly!
After Perol, the head chef who had served the Sorpel Household for many years, died in an accident, he had never tasted it again.
He had heard that Jelard, Perol’s apprentice and the current head chef, had attempted countless times to recreate that flavor, but ultimately failed.
Yet now, the very soup he had resigned himself never to taste again lay before him—its original flavor perfectly preserved.
“Wow… this is truly delicious. How does the soup achieve such depth of flavor?”
The golden, translucent soup contained not a single visible ingredient.
Yet the moment it touched his tongue, the richness of flavor was utterly beyond words.
“So he finally managed to recreate it.”
Duke Sorpel assumed the current head chef had at last succeeded in recreating his master’s taste.
But upon hearing this, the butler shook his head gently.
“It was not made by Chef Jelard.”
“Not made by the head chef?”
“No.”
“Then who?”
The butler Rube smiled softly and continued.
“It was Miss Camilla.”
“…Who?”
“Cough, cough!”
Duke Sorpel’s eyes widened further, and Jacter, who had been sipping the soup, erupted into a fit of dry coughing the moment Camilla’s name was mentioned.
He examined the soup anew with an expression of utter disbelief.
“You’re saying Miss Camilla made this?”
As if he had anticipated their reaction, the butler smiled once more, and both Duke Sorpel and Jacter remained speechless for some time.
* * *
“This… this is…!”
The head chef Jelard found himself at a loss for words.
The moment he beheld the soup Camilla had completed, he doubted his own eyes.
That golden broth! How could he not recognize it!
‘And the aroma…!’
It was identical. Precisely the same as that soup from his memories!
With trembling hands, Jelard scooped a generous ladle of soup and brought it to his lips.
“…!”
Clatter!
The ladle slipped from his grasp and fell to the floor.
For a man who constantly lectured about maintaining kitchen utensils in pristine condition to drop a ladle and forget to retrieve it—the shock was profound.
That taste. It was unmistakably that soup!
The soup my master Perol had crafted long ago!
When my master died so suddenly, I never received the recipe.
Yet now that very soup stood before me, flawlessly prepared—not by anyone else, but by Camilla’s own hands!
I could scarcely believe it, even seeing it with my own eyes.
“How does the soup taste?”
Camilla, who had been quietly observing his reaction, approached him with a subtle smile.
“H-how…!”
Jelard, who had been standing in a daze, finally regained his composure. His voice trembled with barely contained excitement.
“How did you make this! How on earth!”
Jelard’s eyes blazed with fervent intensity as he stared at Camilla.
I had invested countless hours attempting to recreate this soup, yet the results were always dismal. I could never capture that flavor.
Yet how…!
“You’re tall.”
“Pardon?”
“Too tall.”
“I don’t understand….”
Camilla pointed directly at Jelard’s eyes with two fingers, then slowly lowered her hand downward. She was indicating something unmistakable.
“Lower your gaze.”
“…!”
Understanding Camilla’s meaning, Jelard’s eyes wavered uncontrollably.
“My throat is beginning to hurt.”
Camilla feigned discomfort, massaging the back of her neck with one hand.
“….”
Softly.
His wide eyes lowered. His knees bent slightly—to a height where Camilla need not lift her head.
Naturally, both his hands came together respectfully before him.
“A-are you going to teach me now?”
It was a shameful display before all the kitchen staff, but that hardly mattered at this moment.
“Teach you what?”
“It’s the recipe for this soup.”
“Why would I?”
“…Pardon?”
“I never said I’d teach you the cooking method itself.”
“…!”
Watching Jelard’s face drain of color in shock, I untied the apron I’d been wearing and tossed it aside carelessly.
“Miss Camilla!”
Jelard called out urgently as I turned toward the Kitchen exit.
I couldn’t let her leave like this. I had to obtain that recipe by any means necessary!
“Well, I suppose I could teach you.”
“Really, truly?”
“If you look prettier.”
“Pardon?”
“If you manage to look even slightly more attractive, perhaps I’ll teach you later.”
With those words, I brushed off my clothes and left the Kitchen.
Jelard stared blankly after me for a long moment before slowly turning to regard the Kitchen staff lined up against the wall.
“What would it take for this face to look prettier?”
“That’s impos— Ugh!”
Those who elbowed the tactless youngest Kitchen servant into silence could only offer awkward smiles.

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