The Cowardly Baby Saint Sees Ghosts - Chapter 25

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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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# Chapter 25
The Imperial Palace Garden was similar to the Temple Garden, yet utterly different.
The temple’s garden was enveloping—its sense of season oddly skewed, the air warm, the sunlight so gentle it made you drowsy.
The Imperial Palace Garden, by contrast, was almost aggressively orderly.
Trees, flowers, paths—everything arranged without a single crooked edge. Even the ducks floating on the pond seemed as if they would swim in perfect formation.
‘Even the garden has that palace feel about it.’
It was suffocating.
Any branch that dared to grow even slightly askew would be pruned away on sight—there was no mistaking it for anything but a royal garden.
“Why are you looking at it like that?”
Demian’s voice came from beside me. I lifted my head. He was walking at an unhurried pace, matching mine exactly.
Too unhurried.
This was consideration. It had to be.
Yet somehow it stung my pride.
“Your Majesty.”
“What?”
“Please don’t slow down on my account.”
“You can’t keep up.”
“I can manage.”
He gave me an appraising once-over, then murmured something under his breath.
“You’ve looked breathless since we started.”
“I’m not.”
The moment the words left my mouth, my breath betrayed me.
“Hmm.”
“…”
“…”
Silence fell between us.
The corners of Demian’s mouth twitched upward, just barely.
“Don’t laugh.”
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
“No, you’re… imagining things.”
“You’re terrible at pretending, aren’t you?”
He covered his mouth, but his shoulders shook with silent laughter. In moments like this, he was just a seven-year-old boy.
The tyrant from the original story who was supposed to kill me?
Right now he was nothing but a handsome, ill-tempered brat who took hits a little too easily when you needled him.
Not that I could let my guard down.
I was still fated to die by his hand.
For now.
Probably.
“That’s the White Rose Greenhouse over there.”
Demian pointed deeper into the garden.
“It’s the only part of the palace gardens worth seeing, honestly.”
“Only part?”
“Everything else looks the same.”
Pretty, certainly, but not designed as a place to actually rest.
Demian stated it plainly.
His words lingered with me longer than they should have.
“Yowl!”
Cheese suddenly jolted awake, his fur bristling. The cold strands of his raised coat touched my neck, and I stiffened in turn.
“What’s wrong?”
Demian asked at once.
“Cheese…”
Before I could finish, I saw the far end of the garden.
Near the White Rose Greenhouse. Black hair glinting in the sunlight.
Crimson eyes. An awkward, tensed posture.
And a face that went rigid the moment it noticed us.
‘Gaitel?’
I didn’t need the Status Window to know.
It was her.
The instant Gaitel saw Demian and me, she turned away.
And…….
“Oh.”
She bolted.
Ungraceful for a princess—she grabbed her skirts and ran as though fleeing for her life.
Ah, nearly tripped just now— oh, her balance is quite steady.
I’d gasped without thinking, and Demian must have heard. His expression shifted, subtle and strange.
“Just now—”
He stopped himself mid-sentence.
I was supposed not to know the princess, wasn’t I?
“Do you know her?”
“……No.”
His answer came too late.
“Then why did she run?”
“I’m not sure. I couldn’t see her clearly in the first place.”
I’m a terrible liar. Demian pressed his lips firmly together.
Then, a moment later,
a familiar brown-haired girl emerged from the path beside the greenhouse.
Her expression made it clear she had nothing whatsoever to do with the black-haired girl who’d just fled.
Brown hair, a modest dress, and a smile utterly composed.
I couldn’t help but admire it inwardly.
‘Goodness, her wig work is genuinely impressive.’
Do the Royal Family learn this sort of thing in their lessons?
Crisis management, concealing one’s identity—that sort of training?
“Your Highness the Crown Prince. I am honored to meet you.”
Gaitel—or rather, Idel—bowed her head. Beneath her soft voice, barely suppressed breathlessness slipped through.
Demian’s eyes narrowed.
“……Yes.”
It was terribly awkward.
‘Help me.’
Demian was staring intently at Gaitel, and she was pointedly ignoring his gaze.
“And we meet again, Holy Maiden.”
Idel smiled toward me.
I returned the smile.
“Hello, Idel.”
At the sound of her name, her pupils trembled slightly.
Yet true to her station as a princess, she composed her expression and spoke warmly.
“What brings you to the Imperial Palace? Surely not a healing session?”
“His Highness the Crown Prince offered to show me the gardens.”
“Ah, I see.”
Idel’s gaze flickered to Demian for just a moment.
“How is your health today?”
“It’s manageable.”
Demian answered curtly.
He was likely thinking, ‘What on earth is my sister up to right now?’—but he was adapting reasonably well to this sudden improvisation.
“You mustn’t overexert yourself.”
“Don’t pretend to worry.”
“It’s genuine.”
…….
Wow. Why do I feel like I’m choking while listening to them talk?
In truth, the two of them stood opposed over Imperial Authority, so it was only natural their relationship wouldn’t be warm.
Yet when I’d heard Gaitel speak earlier, she seemed to care for her brother quite a lot?
I let my eyes roll.
They used respectful language, but every sentence felt like it concealed a blade.
‘Is this how the Royal Family exchanges greetings?’
Why do they both raise their shields the moment they speak?
“Holy Maiden.”
I’d been lost in thought and jumped when suddenly called upon.
“Have you yet visited the White Rose Greenhouse?”
“Ah, not yet.”
“If it suits you, I would be happy to show you.”
Demian’s voice turned cold and sharp.
“I’m the one showing you around.”
“Your Highness needs to rest.”
“I told you I’m fine.”
“Even officially?”
Demian’s mouth fell silent.
Oh, she had some bite to her.
It might have been my imagination, but I could have sworn I felt eyes watching us from the shadows.
Demian’s unfamiliar look of indignation was almost amusing.
“Then let’s all go together.”
The moment I spoke, both their gazes snapped to me at once.
What? Did I say something I shouldn’t have?
“The three of us can take a tour together.”
Gaitel hesitated for a moment, then nodded.
“Fine.”
And so the three of us made our way toward the greenhouse side by side.
To be precise: me in the center, Demian on my left, Gaitel on my right, Liam trailing behind, and Cheese perched on my shoulder.
It was quite the arrangement.
‘This might be awkward.’
I wanted to break the strange silence first.
“It really is beautiful.”
Gaitel must have noticed my effort, because she responded in kind.
“Indeed. They say the late Empress treasured this place most of all.”
I wanted to ask how she knew that, but I held my tongue.
The White Rose Greenhouse was even more magnificent up close.
The glass ceiling glinted in the sunlight, and inside, white roses bloomed in profusion.
The petals were as delicate and pristine as if they’d been carved from snow.
But the moment we opened the door—
“—Ugh!”
My breath caught in my throat.
Beneath the overwhelmingly sweet floral scent, something acrid and choking hung in the air.
I reflexively covered my nose, and Demian stared at me.
“The scent is very strong.”
“Is it?”
Gaitel tilted her head. Her expression remained serene.
“This is a variety cultivated only within the Imperial household. The fragrance lingers even through the night, and long ago it was said to ward off nightmares.”
Nightmares. The word struck me oddly.
Gaitel was still smiling, but something felt wrong.
‘What is it?’
Now that I noticed it, a ribbon tied to her skirt’s hem seemed at odds with her current attire.
I couldn’t tear my eyes away from that ribbon.
“That ribbon.”
Gaitel’s hand froze.
“Yes?”
“It’s lovely.”
She hesitated for a moment.
“It’s quite old.”
“Who gave it to you?”
The answer didn’t come at once. The brief silence stretched unnaturally long.
Demian looked at me.
His eyes were a warning: drop it.
But I was already caught in a strange unease.
The cloying floral scent and that acrid smoke-like odor.
The suffocation.
And Cheese’s trembling.
“Cheese?”
Cheese on my shoulder let out a low whimper.
In that instant,
click.
A very small sound echoed through the greenhouse.
I’d thought it was a branch scraping against the glass from outside.
Screech.
Screeeeech.
I was wrong. The sound was coming from inside the greenhouse, against the glass.
I turned my head slowly.
Behind the White Rose vines, small handprints marked the glass wall.
A fine white ash clung to the pane, with long fingernail scratches raking across it.
Screech.
Screech.
The nail marks kept lengthening, as if someone inside were clawing their way out.
I stopped breathing.
A girl stood among the rose vines, facing me.
She was slightly older than me, but her hair was blackened with soot.
Ash dusted her white dress.
Demian tapped me repeatedly when he saw me frozen, but I couldn’t move.
When I opened my mouth, charred skin flaked away.
Please.
Why does this keep happening to me?

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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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