[The Guardian’s egg must not be left unattended for so long.]

[That is correct.]

When did Derrin get here again?

[It must take priority over any other matter.]

[Indeed.]

[It carries the lifelong resentment of our house; we must hurry and bring it to an end—]

Enough, enough!

“Understood.”

Hersel, who had launched into a full speech, and the butler ghost Derrin, who was chiming in, both had their mouths promptly stopped by Camilla.

“I’ll retrieve the Guardian’s egg. As quickly as possible.”

[Ah—truly?]

“Before that, there’s something I need to prepare.”

[Prepare?]

Derrin’s face, which had brightened, fell again. He seemed to think Camilla was going to make some excuse and put off finding the Guardian’s egg.

‘Honestly, can’t trust a person’s word at all, can you.’

I was going to start anyway. No matter how I think about it, there’s no better way than {N•o•v•e•l•i•g•h•t} this.

“Ahem.”

Camilla massaged her throat with her hand and cleared her hoarse voice.

And then—

“Kyaaaaa!”

She screamed with all her might, loud enough to make the manor shake.

[...]

[...]

Startled by the sound, Hersel and Derrin both jerked back to one side.

Bang!

“Young lady! What’s the matter!”

Moments later the door flew open and Donna rushed in.

“W-what is it?”

“Miss Camilla?”

“What happened? What’s wrong?”

“What was that scream just now? What’s going on?”

Other maids and pages waiting on the same floor came running, murmuring. The duke’s order had indeed made the attendants quicker and sharper than before.

“Y-young lady! Are you all right?”

Seeing Camilla, face blanched and shivering, Donna hurried up, asking after her.

The other servants wore worried looks, wondering what had happened. Had there been an intruder?

Camilla spotted several pages bolting outside to summon soldiers.

But Camilla did nothing but tremble; she couldn’t speak. She couldn’t even properly hold the water glass Donna offered.

“Camilla!”

In the meantime, as if the news had reached him, the Duke of Sorpel came quickly into the room.

The moment Camilla faced the Duke of Sorpel, her shaking body stilled as if by magic.

Instead, her expression went blank as she looked at him. Then her eyes welled, and tears slid down her cheeks.

“C-Camilla!”

“Father...”

“What is it!”

“Are you all right?”

“What?”

Camilla gripped the Duke of Sorpel’s hand tightly when he came near. She spoke with a tremble.

“In my dream, Father...”

“A dream?”

“Fire, a great fire—hic!”

“...”

“In Father’s study, the cloth was piled up high...”

“Cloth?”

“A great fire... hic, and even though I told you to come out, even when I pulled you, you wouldn’t come out, and into the fire... hrrrk...”

Faces around the room twisted into odd looks. All this commotion over a dream?

The most appalled expression belonged to Ravi. He looked at her as if to say she had finally gone this far, pulling the strangest stunts—now even this?

‘What did he come for?’

He’d holed up in his lab at supper, claiming he was too busy to come out. Now that I looked, Ludville was standing quietly to one side as well.

Was my scream really that loud? I did scream with the goal of making a fuss, but still.

“Even though there was fire, you came in to take me out.”

The Duke of Sorpel’s voice sounded again.

He still felt the faint tremor in Camilla’s hand gripping his.

His gaze softened at the sight. Dream or not, the fact that Camilla had jumped into the fire to save him moved him deeply.

“I was so startled—hic—I’m sorry.”

“No, no. You must have been very frightened.”

With a pleased expression, the Duke of Sorpel kept stroking Camilla’s hair.

‘Right.’

What did it matter if others wore vacant looks? As long as the Duke of Sorpel was this pleased, that was enough.

‘Besides, this wasn’t the true objective.’

After meeting Laila today, something had come to mind.

Around this time, a great fire would break out at the Sorpel-run textile manufactory. It wasn’t the house’s main business, but because of it, the Duke of Sorpel had to be out and about, extremely busy for a while.

I didn’t know the exact date, but since it would happen not long after Laila’s transfer, it would be within a week—

Bang!

“Your Grace!”

At that moment the door flew open with a loud report and the aide Jector hurried in.

“What is it?”

“There’s been a problem.”

“A problem?”

The Duke of Sorpel’s expression shifted in an instant as he chastised Jector with a look for opening the door without knocking at this late hour.

If he was rushing here at such an hour, it wouldn’t be a simple matter.

“A major fire has broken out at the textile manufactory in the Berke district.”

“A fire?”

Hearing Jector’s words, Camilla too was taken aback inwardly. Wow, what ghostly timing.

“Yes. Fortunately, because of the late hour there are said to be no casualties... but it will likely be difficult to operate the factory for some time.”

“Hm. Let’s go to the study first.”

“Yes.”

The Duke of Sorpel, heading out with Jector, suddenly stopped. His gaze turned to Camilla, whose tears had already ceased.

He recalled what Camilla had just said: that bolts of cloth piled in the study had caught fire.

The others were the same. All of them looked at Camilla with startled eyes. It wasn’t just that the study was aflame—hadn’t she said the piled cloth was burning?

But soon people thought, ‘Eh, coincidence,’ or, a little intrigued, drifted back to their places.

‘I’m amazed too. Amazed.’

How did the timing line up this perfectly?

Camilla took the water Donna offered and sipped slowly, wearing an awkward smile.

****

[Bait?]

“Yes.”

[...?]

[We’re not fishing—what’s with bait out of nowhere?]

Hersel and Derrin didn’t immediately grasp what Camilla meant.

Bait? Last night’s scream was bait to find the Guardian’s egg? They didn’t understand at all.

“If I suddenly bring back the Guardian’s egg, what do you think people will say?”

[They’ll be pleased.]

“...”

Do people become this simple after they die?

“They’ll be pleased for a moment. And after that?”

[After that?]

“Won’t they bombard me with questions—how I knew where the egg was, how I could find it?”

[Hmmm.]

[Most likely, yes?]

“Then what should I say?”

[Well...]

“What if I tell the truth—that the late Lord Hersel told me? Won’t they say the duke’s daughter has finally lost her wits?”

[...]

“In any case, that’s why I need bait.”

[You mean to say you saw the location of the Guardian’s egg in a dream, too?]

“Yes.”

[Will people even believe that?]

[I share the same doubt.]

It didn’t seem likely that people would believe her just because she had once “dreamed” of a fire and “got it right” by coincidence.

“So we scatter more bait.”

[More?]

[How, exactly?]

Camilla only smiled mildly at their questions. Just then, the carriage she was riding in slid to a stop.

“Young lady, we’ve arrived.”

At the door the coachman opened, Camilla stepped down slowly. In front of her stood a small shop.

Through the window, she could see items for infants on display.

[Why here?]

“To buy ingredients for bait.”

[Ingredients?]

Leaving the puzzled Hersel and Derrin behind, Camilla headed for the shop.

They threw one last question at her back.

[By the way—about last night. How did you know there would be a fire at the textile manufactory? Was it really a coincidence?]

[I’m curious as well. Young lady, how did you know?]

[A coincidence?]

[It makes far too little sense to call it coincidence.]

Camilla’s performance—sniffling as she claimed it was a dream—had been superb. Even Hersel and Derrin, who had watched everything from the sudden scream onward, were taken in by how real it looked.

But most surprising was how Camilla had known a fire would break out at the factory. She couldn’t have just blurted it out at random.

“Ah! Busy, busy.”

Feeling the two ghosts’ steady stares, Camilla pretended not to notice and hurried into the shop.

****

“Welcome, Count Shailon.”

“Is His Grace inside?”

“Yes, he’s waiting.”

Rube, the butler who had come all the way to the entrance, offered a courteous greeting.

House Shailon—the most intimate and long-standing retainer house of the Duke of Sorpel.

The reason he visited the ducal house today was the fire at the textile factory a few days prior. The man responsible for managing and overseeing that factory was Count Shailon himself.

The face that usually looked at ease was visibly set. In the position of managing and bearing responsibility for the factory, this incident allowed no excuse.

Fortunately, the damage wasn’t too great, but it would take quite a long time to get the factory running again.

‘Hoo.’

Letting out a short sigh inwardly, he followed quietly behind the butler Rube.

“Hm?”

Moments later, Count Shailon halted. Someone was walking toward them from the end of the corridor leading to the study.

Count Shailon bowed his head lightly in greeting.

“It has been a while, Miss Camilla.”

She returned it with a graceful smile.

“Yes, it’s been a while, Count Shailon.”

Seeing his set expression, Camilla kept a faint smile at her lips.

“You’ve come because of the factory fire, I take it.”

“Yes.”

At the word “fire,” a sigh escaped him of its own accord. Then he looked at Camilla with a slightly surprised gaze.

Did she know the factory that burned was under his management? He’d thought she had no interest in the house’s business at all.

“Please don’t worry too much.”

Camilla offered comfort, and based on prior experience, slipped him a quiet hint as well.

“I’ve heard whispers that you’re planning to use this opportunity to double the size of the textile factory and rebuild it anew.”

At the unexpected words, Count Shailon’s eyes widened.