The Black Dragon Opened a Fortune Shop
The Azure Dragon Foresight Counseling Office opened the next day.
Without my permission.
The consultation room was an empty classroom in the academy’s western annex. A purple cloth hung over the door, and black curtains covered the windows. Inside, the scent of incense candles drifted through the air. Anyone could tell it looked suspicious.
A notice was posted on the corridor wall.
Confirm your future through the Azure Dragon’s mysterious eyes.
Romance, exams, lost items, combat, and weather consultations available.
Demon-related questions incur an additional fee.
We take no responsibility for the results of any prophecy.
At least that last line matched my own feelings.
I tore the notice off the wall. Right underneath it was another identical notice. I tore that one down too. There was a third.
“How many of these did you put up?”
The familiar beside me held up its front paws.
Five.
I tore down every remaining notice and crumpled them into my arms.
“Open the door.”
The familiar shook its head.
“Do you have a reservation?”
“I’m the counselor!”
After a moment of hesitation, the familiar opened the door. I had to pass an entrance screening just to get into my own fortune shop.
The classroom was even worse inside than it had looked from outside. A round table stood where the teacher’s desk used to be. Star-shaped ornaments hung from the ceiling, and purple crystal orbs glowed in every direction. Across from the table sat a single high-backed chair. Apparently that was my seat.
The problem was the outfit laid out on the chair. Deep blue fabric. A short cape embroidered with stars and clouds. A jeweled ornament for the forehead. And a hat with an excessively pointed tip.
“I’m not wearing that,” I said the moment I saw it.
Noel’s voice drifted out of the crystal orb on the table.
“I haven’t even explained yet.”
“I can tell just by looking.”
“It’s a modern reinterpretation of a mysterious prophet who reads the signs of the heavens.”
“What’s modern about it?”
“The skirt length.”
“Don’t make that part modern.”
Hearing the explanation only made me want to wear it less. I picked up the hat. Holes had been carefully cut for my horns.
“When did you even make this?”
“Last night.”
“Did you sleep?”
“I slept.”
“When?”
“While I was making it.”
Could someone really sleep while sewing? The ecology of black dragons was hard to understand.
Familiars bustled about the classroom. One organized the reservation list. Another lit the incense candles. A third stacked snacks under the table.
“How much is the consultation fee?”
“One silver coin.”
“That’s expensive.”
“Half of it is yours, Cheongha.”
“I’m not doing it.”
“You can take payment in snacks too.”
“That’s not the issue.”
The sound of fabric rustling came from beyond the crystal orb. Noel was probably lying in bed, watching me through a familiar’s eyes.
“Students keep crowding around,” Noel said. “If you set an order, it’ll be less tiring.”
I couldn’t argue. Thinking of the line that had formed in the corridor yesterday, she wasn’t entirely wrong. At least if Noel’s familiars let students in one by one, I wouldn’t get swarmed by dozens at once.
“You still should have gotten my permission first.”
“I asked.”
“When?”
“Yesterday.”
“I refused.”
“I interpreted that as an active willingness to negotiate.”
It was my own fault for trusting that black dragon’s social skills.
A bell rang outside the door. One familiar darted over at once.
“First customer.”
“Don’t let them in.”
The familiar’s paws were faster than my words. The door opened, and a nervous-looking male student stepped inside. He looked around the room, then spotted me standing in front of the chair.
“Azure Dragon.”
“Don’t call me that.”
The boy set a silver coin on the table. A familiar immediately scooped it up.
“Refund that.”
“No refunds after consultation.”
“It hasn’t even started yet.”
Noel made the crystal orb glow, and the lights in the room dimmed. Purple smoke rose around the table. The star ornaments hanging from the ceiling began to spin. Atmosphere-wise, it was genuinely convincing.
“Sit in the chair,” Noel said in a low voice.
“Who?”
“Cheongha.”
“Why do I have to play along with the production?”
The boy’s expectant gaze burned into me. I set the outfit aside on the table and reluctantly sat in the high-backed chair. A familiar tried to put the pointed hat on my head. I swatted it away with one hand.
“No hat.”
“It lowers the mystery factor.”
“My patience is dropping too.”
The boy carefully raised his hand.
“May I ask my question?”
“You’ve already paid, so go ahead.”
He swallowed hard.
“If I skip morning training tomorrow, will the instructor catch me?”
I looked past his shoulder. Outside the open door stood a solidly built instructor, arms crossed, glaring this way.
“Yes,” I answered. “Very certainly.”
“As expected of future—”
“Look behind you.”
The boy turned his head. The instructor pointed a finger toward the corridor. He swallowed a scream as he was dragged outside.
The familiar eyed the silver coin.
“Consultation successful.”
“How is that a success?”
“We prevented a future unauthorized absence.”
On pure logic, it was hard to argue. Even so, I returned the silver coin to the boy as he was being hauled away by the instructor. Noel’s first profit vanished like that.
From beyond the crystal orb, Noel muttered quietly.
“Failed to recover initial investment.”
“You shouldn’t have invested in the first place.”
A familiar recorded a red deficit on the first line of the ledger. I picked up the crystal orb from the table.
“Cancel this right now.”
“The first customer already came.”
The door opened. I reflexively set the orb back down.
The person who entered wasn’t a student. It was Lydia. She slowly surveyed the room—purple curtains, crystal orbs, incense candles, the suspicious outfit on the side of the table, and finally the familiar holding the reservation list. Lydia smiled.
“Miss Noel.”
Her voice was gentle. Every familiar froze at once. I straightened my posture for no good reason.
“Did Miss Cheongha say she was allowed to do this kind of thing?”
“We’re still negotiating.”
“I just told her to cancel it,” I corrected immediately.
Lydia’s smile deepened a little.
“Is that so?”
“She might agree in the future.”
“You can’t decide Miss Cheongha’s future on your own.”
“Cheongha’s been deciding other people’s futures too.”
“I’ve never decided anything!”
I was the most wronged person in this entire conversation. Lydia picked up the outfit from the table. When she unfolded the cape, her eyebrows moved just a fraction.
“The skirt is short.”
“I considered mobility.”
“Does fortune-telling require mobility?”
“You have to run away in a crisis.”
That part alone was realistic. Lydia neatly folded the clothes and held them against her chest.
“I’ll keep these for now.”
“Confiscation is tyranny.”
“Better than using Miss Cheongha without permission.”
The light from the crystal orb deepened. The familiars in the corners of the classroom all lowered their bodies at once. Golden mana rose behind Lydia.
Please don’t tell me they’re going to fight again.
I prepared to duck under the table.
“Both of you, stop.”
A cold voice came from the doorway. Selene stood there, several torn-down notices in one hand.
“Noel Nachtveil. Unauthorized occupation of academy facilities, unlicensed business operations, and collection of student personal information.”
“It’s a reservation list.”
“Without student council approval, it’s personal information collection.”
“Then approve it.”
“Denied.”
The verdict was swift. The familiars’ ears drooped. I was saved.
Selene looked my way.
“You as well, Student Cheongha.”
“I’m the victim here.”
“Because you kept answering students’ questions, the rumors grew.”
“They looked troubled, so I only answered a few.”
“And every one of those few was correct.”
Was that my fault? Selene picked up the reservation list from the table. It was packed. Thirty-two people for today alone. Forty for tomorrow. Even other grades were written down for the weekend. Academy students seemed to like fortune-telling more than classes.
“The counseling office is closed,” Selene said.
I cheered inwardly.
“In its place, the student council will issue a notice. Do not request private prophecies or fortune-telling from Student Cheongha.”
“That’s good.”
“Matters that require help, such as lost items or safety issues, will be formally requested through the student council.”
I lifted my head.
“Wait a second.”
“What?”
“That means formal requests will still come to me.”
“Better than being swarmed indiscriminately.”
She was right, but something felt off. Instead of the fortune shop closing, it felt like it had become a student-council-run counseling office.
One of Noel’s familiars raised a front paw.
“Costume production duty.”
“Unnecessary.”
Selene cut it off.
“Assistant familiars.”
“Also unnecessary.”
“Profit distribution.”
“No profits will be generated.”
The familiar’s wings drooped even lower. It looked a little pitiful. That didn’t mean I was going to wear the outfit.
Once everything was settled, Selene and Lydia left the classroom first. I was about to follow when one familiar caught the hem of my clothes.
“What is it?”
“Did you really hate it?”
Noel’s voice had grown a little quieter. I looked around the room. Suspicious as it was, every decoration showed a lot of care. The costume had even been made with my horns and tail in mind. The problem was that she hadn’t asked permission—not that she had tried to put me in a bad spot.
“I don’t want the counseling office,” I said honestly.
The familiar’s ears drooped.
“But I’ll come by later for snacks.”
“And the clothes?”
“I’m not wearing those.”
“Just the hat.”
“I’m not putting it on.”
“The cape.”
“Negotiations over.”
The familiar let me go with a regretful look. Outside the classroom, another notice was stuck to the wall.
Azure Dragon Foresight Counseling Office temporarily closed at the request of the student council.
It had been changed from permanent closure to a temporary one. I tore the notice down and ripped it in half.
If I really could see the future, the first thing I would want to know was whether that fortune shop was going to come back.