The Cowardly Baby Saint Sees Ghosts - Chapter 35

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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 35.
A single word from the Imperial Palace—an Invitation had arrived—sent the Temple into upheaval.
Or rather, the priests around me did.
“An Invitation sent directly by Her Highness the Princess?”
“Then this would be the Saint’s debut into high society!”
“What about the Dress? We need to decide on the Dress first.”
“Hair ornaments must be neither too elaborate nor too plain. You understand, don’t you?”
“The Saint’s very existence is radiance, so whatever she wears—”
“That’s obvious, but let’s focus on practical matters for now.”
I sat in my chair, watching the spectacle unfold with a vacant stare.
It frightened me.
I was certain I’d witnessed something similar during the Consecration Ceremony, but then they’d been emphasizing the Saint’s mystique and purity, whereas now—
“That style is outdated!”
“No, no—this one brings out the cuteness so much better!”
Now it felt like they were chasing something more worldly, more conventionally beautiful.
This was only the second time I’d seen the Temple move with such perfect unity of purpose.
‘Even if the Temple is powerful, they can’t afford to completely ignore the nobility.’
I grumbled inwardly, trying to side with the Temple despite everything. I wanted to be on their side.
“Can’t I just wear anything and go?”
All eyes snapped toward me at once.
The sudden focus made me sweat and stumble over my words.
“Oh, no—that’s not what I meant—”
I was about to ask why the Temple should defer to the nobility and cater to their desires when—
Beki knelt before me, her eyes level with mine, both hands cradling an armful of dress fabric samples.
“Saint.”
“Yes?”
“Her Highness the Princess hasn’t invited you to a simple tea party.”
“No?”
“It’s practically a Debutante presentation!”
A Debutante? Surely she didn’t mean that—the one high-society girls do at fifteen?
I fell silent.
So that was why they were making such a fuss.
“Everyone is preparing so that your first society debut will be more beautiful than anyone else’s.”
The priests nodded eagerly at Beki’s words, their faces bright with smiles.
“There shouldn’t exist anyone more beautiful than our Saint!”
‘That’s a bit much.’
I ignored whoever had cried that out and forced down the smile threatening to break across my face.
“So you’re all going to this extent entirely for my debut?”
My chest warmed, blooming with something soft and full.
“And while we’re at it, we’ll humble those arrogant nobles a bit—”
“Mari, settle down!”
Beki swatted the priest who’d been quietly griping about the nobility on the back, then laughed awkwardly.
“My apologies, Saint. Mari had a difficult encounter with a noble recently.”
At that moment, another priest arrived carrying Shoes.
Given my young age, the heel wasn’t very high, but the design was refined and elegant.
“Oh, how adorable!”
A small rabbit-shaped jewel adorned the toe of each Shoe.
“His Holiness the Pope ordered them directly. They say he had them set with a jewel matching your eye color.”
The rabbit’s eyes were violet. Moreover, the Shoes themselves shimmered with a soft violet light.
I loved them.
Receiving a gift was still strange to me,
“Thank you so much…!”
But there were people here rejoicing at my happiness.
And so I smiled all the brighter for them.
* * *
“The Saint makes her entrance.”
The Glass Salon of the Imperial Palace—that was where today’s tea party would be held.
I could have sworn they’d said it would be a small affair, but the moment the doors opened, I understood.
The Imperial House had an entirely different conception of size than ordinary people.
‘They call this small?’
The Salon was spacious. The high ceiling and open expanse seemed to embody the authority of the Imperial House. Beyond the glass walls, a carefully maintained garden unfolded in shades of green.
Pastries were stacked like mountains on the tables, and each cup and dish looked like a work of art.
The moment I stepped inside, I felt the attention of the noblewomen and young ladies converge upon me.
For an instant, I couldn’t breathe.
The priests had taken such care preparing my Dress and Shoes, styling my hair, but I didn’t want to look frozen stiff, so I forced myself to smile.
Yet my facial muscles, already tense, seemed to grow stranger the more I tried to move them.
‘Calm yourself.’
The doors opened, and as I entered, everyone rose from their seats.
I lifted my head as I’d been taught, took the hem of my Dress lightly in hand, and made a bow that was not too deep.
“Thank you for the Invitation.”
Thankfully my tongue didn’t tangle, and my voice came out better than I’d expected.
A few murmurs rippled through the room as people observed me, unsettling the atmosphere.
Then, from the far end at the central seat, Gaitel rose.
As she walked toward me, the air in the Salon seemed to part of its own accord.
Not just because she was my friend—she truly looked magnificent.
“I’m delighted you could come, Saint.”
Gaitel extended her hand.
When I took it, she lightly tapped the back of my hand with her fingers.
As if to say there was no need to be nervous.
“I’m grateful for the Invitation as well, Your Highness.”
A lie.
‘I’m rather overwhelmed, and I just want to get back to the Temple as quickly as possible.’
But I smiled.
I’m a Saint, after all.
Gaitel guided me to the seat beside her own.
At that moment, the Salon rippled—subtly, but unmistakably.
I wasn’t so foolish as to miss the significance of sitting at the Princess’s side.
‘This is quite the declaration.’
Without saying a word, Gaitel was showing everyone: this person is my guest.
It was impossibly reassuring.
Once Gaitel and I were seated, everyone hurried to their chairs.
‘Oh dear.’
My feet still didn’t touch the floor. I carefully wriggled them.
Fortunately, the tablecloth was long enough that no one could see.
“Saint.”
A noblewoman spoke up, as if she’d been waiting for her moment.
A pearl necklace wound around her neck three times over.
“I’ve been so eager to meet you. You’re far younger than I’d heard.”
‘I wonder how many more times I’ll hear that I’m young.’
But
I gave no sign of displeasure, producing a perfectly composed smile.
“I’m five years old, ma’am.”
“My goodness.”
Countess Marco, who had recently gained fame through aggressive investments that swelled her fortune, covered her mouth.
“To think you serve the Empire at such a tender age—you truly are the daughter of God.”
The woman laughed and covered her mouth with her fan, her eyes glittering with mirth.
It was meant as praise, perhaps, but there was something probing about it.
I calmly took up my teacup in both hands. The warmth helped gradually ease the tension.
“I’m still learning.”
“And so humble as well.”
Not humble—the truth is, aside from seeing ghosts, I can barely do anything else.
The Countess’s smile flickered, as if my answer hadn’t been what she’d hoped for.
“I’ve heard that you interact quite frequently with the Crown Prince?”
At this sudden shift in topic, I mentally reviewed what I needed to be careful about.
Sensitive matters I mustn’t reveal—Demian’s health condition, for instance—as I conducted my own internal censorship.
“The Crown Prince is an important patient at the Temple.”
“A patient, you say.”
The Countess’s eyes narrowed.
“In your assessment, has His Highness’s condition improved considerably?”
I set down my teacup.
Click.
A small sound cut through the air.
“That is a matter for His Highness and the Imperial House to decide.”
Marco’s lips tightened ever so slightly. I felt Gaitel stifle a laugh beside me.
Did she find me impressive, handling it alone without needing to step in?
Just then, I heard footsteps beyond the door, and an attendant entered with a bow.
“His Royal Highness the Crown Prince has arrived.”
The air in the salon shifted again.
Demian, his face ashen, moved toward us with deliberately measured steps.
One hand rested on the attendant’s arm for support.
The unsteadiness of his gait suggested his condition had worsened since before.
I wanted to speak, worried, and started to move—but our eyes met in that instant.
For just a moment, Demian’s gaze flickered with life before it dulled again.
Good heavens.
The man’s an accomplished actor.
The noble ladies whispered among themselves.
“It seems he hasn’t fully recovered yet.”
“Though he does look much better than before.”
“They say it’s thanks to the Saint.”
“Still, in that condition…….”
I couldn’t hear the rest, but I could guess well enough.
Something about him being inadequate as a crown prince, no doubt.
Yet Gaitel and Demian both heard it without so much as a flicker of expression.
So this is the Imperial Palace.
I tightened my grip on the teacup in my hand.
For reasons I couldn’t quite name, I felt anger rising.

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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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