The Cowardly Baby Saint Sees Ghosts - Chapter 36

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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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# Episode 36
Demian deliberately stumbled. The Attendant rushed to steady him.
Silence fell across the room, and people held their breath.
Demian took the seat across from me.
“Saint.”
He spoke in a feeble voice.
“It has been a while.”
I smiled as befitted a Saint.
“Your Highness. What an honor.”
“I’m afraid I’ve imposed on you again today.”
“You need only refrain from overexertion, Your Highness.”
At my words, Demian’s eyebrows twitched ever so slightly.
‘You’re the one who should refrain.’
That was what his eyes said.
It was almost laughable.
“The two of you certainly seem close.”
Marco spoke up again. I’d meant to snap at her meddling, but Gaitel beat me to it.
“The Saint has been making considerable efforts at the Temple toward His Highness’s recovery.”
Her tone was calm, but the message was unmistakable.
Don’t talk nonsense. This is medicine, not politics.
Marco’s tail tucked between her legs at once.
“Of course. I misspoke.”
Then Demian’s hand trembled.
The teacup shook. For a moment I thought it would spill, but then tea sloshed across the table.
“Your Highness!”
The Attendant moved forward.
Demian was breathing heavily. I knew it was an act, but my chest seized.
Even if it was an act, I hated him suffering like that in front of all these people.
I rose from my seat and approached him.
“May I examine your hand?”
Demian nodded weakly.
I took his hand. His fingertips were cold—nervous despite the performance.
I let Holy Power flow through my fingers in the faintest trickle.
A show of treatment, or rather an excuse to end this damned charade.
“You’ve strained yourself.”
I whispered just loud enough for him alone to hear.
“Your Highness.”
……
“You want to stop the act, don’t you?”
Demian pressed my palm with his fingertips.
“Just bear with it a little longer.”
“You too.”
“Pardon?”
Demian leaned closer and spoke low.
“I can see your foot fidgeting.”
……!
My face flushed crimson in an instant.
His gaze was fixed on my leg swinging beneath the table, where it didn’t reach the floor.
I’d thought the tablecloth hid it. He was watching that the whole time?
He whispered with a thoroughly wicked smile.
“Just be patient.”
The expression of someone savoring their revenge.
‘God. I really want to hit him.’
Though if I threw even one punch, I’d be arrested.
I gritted my teeth and sent more Holy Power flowing.
Demian steadied his breathing theatrically for all to see, then closed his eyes.
The assembled guests murmured in relief.
“The Saint truly does make a difference.”
“His Highness seems to rely on her greatly.”
“Still, he should rest well to fully recover.”
In the end, Demian’s performance had succeeded.
The nobles who witnessed his weakness would never regard him as a threatening Crown Prince.
Perhaps this was what he intended to convey: a willingness to pose no threat whatsoever to the factions supporting First Princess Gaitel, all for the sake of survival.
But knowing it was calculated didn’t stop the strange feeling that settled over me.
The wrongness of pretending to be sick when perfectly healthy.
The wrongness of a mere seven-year-old boy having to resort to such measures just to stay alive.
Before I released his hand, I murmured,
“Next time, you needn’t try quite so hard.”
His ruby eyes widened at that.
As if asking what I meant.
“It was so convincing it frightened me.”
His lips moved ever so slightly.
Was he smiling?
Or had he apologized?
I couldn’t quite tell.
Gaitel rose from her seat.
“I believe the Crown Prince ought to rest now. I do hope everyone will continue to enjoy the tea party.”
That single remark settled the restless atmosphere at once.
Ah, truly befitting a princess. Even her exit was flawless.
I found myself applauding silently.
* * *
Once the tea party had ended, Gaitel and I slipped out to the Garden for a moment.
As the cool air sank deep into my lungs, I felt as though I could breathe again.
Gaitel walked slowly beside me, her gaze averted, before she spoke.
“You did wonderfully.”
“…!”
“For your first appearance in High Society, it was quite splendid.”
“Truly?”
“Of course. Though I must apologize—I failed to account for your stature and arranged seating far too high throughout.”
“Ah, that—”
I cried out in embarrassment, and Gaitel paused mid-step, covering her mouth.
Why was she suddenly laughing?
It felt strangely like she was treating me as a child.
“Stop laughing.”
“I apologize.”
“Your face says otherwise.”
“Haha.”
These siblings were absolutely insufferable.
I puffed out my lips in a pout.
We resumed our walk.
“Saint.”
“Yes?”
“As you witnessed today, High Society is not a forgiving place.”
“I understand.”
“It will only grow harder from here. Now that it’s known you received my invitation, that you’re close to the Crown Prince, and that you enjoy the Holy Father’s protection.”
It was a fair point. As I imagined the pressures to come, I found myself sinking into gloom despite myself.
“But don’t worry.”
Gaitel looked at me. Her crimson eyes were calm and composed.
Looking into her gaze, I found myself naturally recalling Demian—those bright ruby eyes gazing up at me wide with wonder.
Did all the Imperial Family inherit such beautiful eyes?
“I will protect you.”
“Then what should I do?”
“Simply trust me and stand by my side.”
Gaitel regarded me with an enigmatic expression.
“Since that day, I haven’t had a single nightmare.”
Free at last from the guilt of her friend’s death, she looked lighter. The relief had finally allowed her to sleep without torment.
I met her gaze directly.
“Really?”
“Yes.”
Gaitel’s voice was serene.
I didn’t know what to say. All I felt was relief.
“How fortunate.”
“It’s thanks to you, Saint.”
The wind rose, and when her long hair caught it, the murmur of voices stilled for a moment.
A brief silence settled between us, then she spoke again.
“And…….”
She looked a little embarrassed. Seeing her honest expression for the first time, I blinked.
“I had a real conversation with Demian for the first time.”
“Ah.”
Quite the breakthrough.
From what I’d observed, the two of them were never particularly close. Granted, if one of them had wielded real power, things might’ve been different—but that wasn’t the case.
Gaitel, born first but denied even the chance to be heir apparent simply because she was a woman.
And Demian, Crown Prince though he was, rendered barely functional by his Possession Constitution.
An oddly balanced rivalry, all things considered.
“It was awkward, but the conversation turned out better than I expected.”
Gaitel smiled faintly.
“He thought I disliked him.”
“But didn’t you keep your distance from him, Your Highness?”
“Yes.”
She spoke in a slightly heavy tone.
“In the Imperial Palace, those close to you become your weakness. So I kept away—but to him, that must have looked like abandonment.”
I thought of Demian for a moment.
Prickly, sensitive, quick to pout, hating ghosts yet still helping them in the end.
“But you can grow closer now!”
“It won’t be easy.”
“Even so.”
I took both her hands firmly. She startled at the sudden contact.
“It’s not too late.”
Gaitel stared at me for a long moment with an odd expression.
“You say such difficult things as though they’re obvious, don’t you?”
“……I’m sorry?”
“Never mind.”
That’s when the Status Window appeared.
[Relationship Updated]
Gaitel Bellium has found occasion to reconsider Demian Bellium!
[Gaitel Bellium’s Affection Rising!]
I was feeling rather pleased reading the Status Window.
A soft whisper drifted from beyond the garden.
“Did you hear? They say the Red Shoes will appear again at the next Debutante Ball at the Imperial Palace.”
“You don’t mean that famous urban legend?”
“Yeah. It happens every time—there’s always one young lady who puts on the red shoes and can’t stop dancing.”
“Hush. Don’t say such inauspicious things.”
Gaitel and I exchanged a glance.
Mine meant don’t get involved, but hers held some inexplicable resolve.
I hated this.
Why did a rumor like this greet me the moment I set foot in High Society!
Then the Status Window flashed as if it had been waiting for this.
[New Rumor Detected.]
The Red Shoes Legend of the Imperial Palace Debutante Ball.
A tale that every year, one young lady appears in crimson shoes.
When the music ends, the dancing does not.
[Alert]
Possibility of attendance at this Debutante Ball has emerged.

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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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