The Cowardly Baby Saint Sees Ghosts - Chapter 42

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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 42.
The next morning, I slipped out of the Temple without telling Becki.
Well, not exactly without telling her—I simply claimed I was going for a walk and would be back soon.
“Are you certain you’ll be all right on your own?”
The Pope would assign knights to accompany me anyway, so I couldn’t fathom why she was so concerned.
“I won’t be long. I just thought I’d visit the Market for a bit.”
It wasn’t a lie—just that my destination was rather more specific than that.
Becki helped me into my Coat without much suspicion, wrapping a thick Scarf around my shoulders and offering stern reminders not to linger too long.
“It’s chilly out, so do wear this properly. And don’t stay away too late.”
“All right.”
I stepped through the Temple’s main gate with a light tread, yet my heart fluttered unexpectedly.
The feeling of sneaking off to discover something secret was not unpleasant.
Perhaps this was what it felt like to be a detective?
The Bakery that Becki had mentioned was easy to find at the Market’s entrance, its rich butter aroma drifting out past the alley.
“Excuse me, sir. I heard you also keep a Newspaper stand here?”
The shopkeeper emerged, brushing flour from his hands onto his apron.
Though I’d concealed my face beneath a cloak, the silver hair spilling from my collar and the white-armored paladins trailing behind me had already given me away.
“Oh my goodness, aren’t you the Saint? What brings you to a place like this?”
The shopkeeper, recognizing me, gasped and bowed deeply.
“I was passing nearby and thought I’d stop in. The bread smells wonderful.”
“Ah, then let me wrap something fresh for you—these came straight from the oven this morning.”
“That’s kind of you, but actually, I was wondering if you might have any older Newspapers? Even quite old ones would be fine.”
The shopkeeper gave me a puzzled look.
“Old Newspapers? Whatever for?”
“Oh, I’m simply curious about past events. I collect old articles as a hobby, you see.”
I offered the explanation as naturally as I could. Fortunately, the shopkeeper nodded without suspicion.
“Older ones? Well, we use most of those for wrapping paper. But there should be several unsold copies stacked in the back storage. Give me a moment.”
The shopkeeper disappeared into the back room, then returned carrying an armful of bundled papers thick with dust.
“Is this all of them?”
“Yes, this should cover several years’ worth. Usually, we just use them for wrapping—it’s not as though anyone buys old Newspapers.”
“Do you happen to have anything even older?”
“That would be in my father’s old storage room—it’s quite far back. Let me see if I can find it.”
After rummaging about for some time, the shopkeeper grunted and produced another box. This one didn’t just smell of dust; the reek of mold was unmistakable.
I held my breath and thanked him gratefully.
“Thank you so much.”
I took the bundle of papers and settled onto a nearby bench.
Turning through them one by one, most contained trivial news—grain prices, festival schedules, that sort of thing.
But then, in a corner column devoted to High Society gossip, I spotted a familiar name.
Debutante Season, another disappearance scandal. A maid of the Rochelle Family vanished without a trace overnight.
Rochelle Family.
My chest sank. That was the name Gaitel had mentioned yesterday.
The article was brief—a superficial piece of gossip handled without proper investigation, treating a person’s disappearance with all the gravity one might afford a neighbor’s lost dog.
According to the date, this had happened more than twenty years ago.
I searched through other Newspapers. It took time, but similar stories began to surface one after another.
A guest at a Berne Family ball suddenly rushed away in a violent fit.
The second daughter of the Doren Family disgraced herself at her Debutante presentation?
All were short articles handled as trivial matters—not major incidents, just passing gossip.
But for me, it was different.
Three articles, three different families. Yet all clustered around Debutante Season.
I pointed at each date with my finger, counting the intervals. Spaced out over years, but unmistakably, certain family names repeated.
‘Could this be coincidence?’
I still lacked certainty.
The families were different, the incidents varied. There was no clear connection beyond the timing.
It was impossible to judge alone. Then I remembered that Gaitel had promised to visit again that afternoon for tea.
“My, what are all these?”
Gaitel’s eyes widened as she saw the scattered Newspaper clippings I’d laid out.
“I was curious about something and did a bit of research. Do you happen to know these families well?”
I showed her the names I’d written down. Rochelle, Berne, Doren.
Gaitel’s expression stiffened slightly.
“These three houses? Well, they’re all old baronial families with long histories. But why are you suddenly asking?”
“I just happened to come across some old newspapers, and I noticed something seemed to happen during the Debutante Season.”
“……Is that so?”
Gaitel picked up the newspaper clippings one by one, reading through them carefully. Her brow gradually furrowed.
“When I see them laid out like this, there’s definitely something odd about it.”
“Isn’t there?”
“But these minor incidents don’t usually get recorded, so I can’t be certain of the details. They’re so old, after all.”
Gaitel wore a thoughtful expression for a moment.
“I’ll look into it further. Our connections come in handy for these sorts of things. The Imperial Court should have copies of old Family Registries and High Society rosters.”
It was an unexpectedly eager response. I found myself staring at her in surprise.
“Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me. Now I’m curious too. There’s something oddly satisfying about digging into things like this.”
Gaitel laughed playfully and casually tucked one of the newspaper clippings away.
“Just promise you’ll tell me first when you find something.”
“Of course.”
* * *
When I returned to the Temple, Robin was in the courtyard, sword in hand, practicing against a wooden dummy.
There was no trace of the precarious form he’d shown when we first met.
“Still training today?”
“Yes.”
With that brief reply, Robin sheathed his sword. He glanced at me with a damp face, and there was a question in his eyes.
“What is it?”
“Where have you been?”
“Just to the Market.”
“……Alone?”
“Yes.”
Robin fell silent for a moment.
He cast one more glance at the wooden dummy, then fixed his sword at his side and looked back at me.
“Next time, please let me know. I’ll go with you.”
It was an unexpected thing to say.
“It’s fine — you need to train.”
“Learning through real experience is much faster anyway.”
His firm reply left me momentarily speechless.
“……All right. I’ll tell you next time.”
“Yes.”
Robin picked up his sword again with evident satisfaction. Watching him, I couldn’t help but smile.
‘Stoic as stone, yet stubborn in his own quiet way.’
In the evening, Becki brought tea and asked, “How was the Market today?”
“Nothing much. Oh, the baker asked me to give you his regards.”
“Hehe. His bread has been famous for its quality since long ago. No one’s probably visited as often as I have.”
Becki smiled warmly.
I took a sip of tea when a soft sound came from somewhere in the room.
‘That’s Cheese.’
Of course, I was the only one who could hear this sound. Becki would see nothing.
I turned my head and spotted Cheese stretched out on the windowsill, in a patch of good sunlight. He opened his eyes drowsily as if feeling my gaze.
Meow.
He let out a brief sound as if delivering some grand greeting, then closed his eyes again.
‘You’re always the same, aren’t you.’
I murmured it with a sigh, and Becki gave me a sidelong glance.
“Are you talking to yourself again, Saint?”
“……Yes, it’s a habit.”
Becki simply accepted it with a resigned expression. I still couldn’t decide if her quick adaptation was a blessing or not.
As the night grew late, I took out the newspaper clippings I’d gathered during the day and spread them out.
Rochelle, Berne, Doren. I wrote the three Family names on paper.
‘If I can find just one more, it’ll be certain.’
Gaitel had promised to look into it, so something more might come to light within days.
Until then, I’d have to keep my eyes sharp and searching.
I recalled the list of families attending this Debutante Season once more.
The Ballet Family, of course, and the young ladies of both the Rochelle and Berne families were registered. The Doren Family didn’t appear to be participating this time, though I couldn’t be certain.
‘Surely nothing else will happen this season too.’

She pressed down her anxiety and was about to fold the paper and slip it into the drawer when something stopped her.
Gaitel’s words from earlier that day surfaced in her mind.
That the Imperial Court would have a copy. If something truly did emerge, she’d need to calculate how much time remained before the Debutante Season began.
Days. A week at most. The thought that she had to uncover something within that window made her pulse quicken.
Then a familiar window materialized before her eyes.
[System]
The Red Shoes have already been transferred to their new owner.
[Curse Progress: 10%]
Her eyes snapped open.

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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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