The Cowardly Baby Saint Sees Ghosts - Chapter 61

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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 61
I hurried after Demian.
But his pace was so quick that I couldn’t find him no matter where I looked.
Just as I was glancing about, an irritated voice came from somewhere.
“……Go!”
“……?”
“Get back to your master. Now!”
My eyes met Demian’s, who was desperately trying to shake off Cheese as he crawled up his back and attempted to perch on his shoulder.
“……!”
An awkward silence hung between us for a moment.
‘Thank you, Cheese.’
Without Cheese, I never would have looked in a place like this.
Demian, sitting hunched over an abandoned desk and chair in the corner, let out a heavy sigh.
“Why did you follow me?”
“I was worried about you.”
I looked at Cheese, now separated from him, and asked.
“Your Holy Power must be nearly depleted—how can you see Cheese?”
“……It’s blurry.”
I hesitated, then pulled out the chair across from him and sat down.
Demian’s crimson eyes drifted toward the bandage wrapped around my fingers.
“Does it hurt?”
I was about to say it was fine, of course, but stopped.
“……No.”
“……!”
“Yes, it hurts.”
Demian nodded very faintly.
“Good.”
“Why?”
“Just… I was glad you didn’t lie again and say you were fine.”
I fell silent.
Why did words like that embarrass me more?
For a while, neither of us spoke.
It was simply the kind of silence where we both had something to say but didn’t want to be the first to voice it.
Eventually, Demian was the one who broke it.
“Why did you do that earlier?”
“To them?”
“Yeah.”
I looked down at my fingertips.
“I was angry.”
“That much I get, but—”
“You acted like nothing was wrong.”
I spoke in a quiet, measured voice.
“When I see someone pretending like that, it makes me angry. Most of the time, they’re not actually fine.”
I knew this applied to me as well.
“Of course, there are plenty of times when I really am fine.”
“And you expect me to believe that now?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t believe it one bit.”
He was being exasperating again.
I pouted slightly.
Demian looked up at the sky. The orange glow of dusk fell across his profile.
Then he parted his lips.
“I’m just… tired, I think.”
“…….”
“Everyone acts like I don’t understand what they’re saying.”
He spoke carelessly.
“But I do understand. All of it.”
I had nothing to say in response.
“That’s why I found what you said earlier a bit funny.”
“What do you mean?”
“Everyone else talks around it, but you just asked straight out. Whether you’d actually seen me hurt, why I was laughing.”
The corner of Demian’s mouth lifted, just slightly.
“Their faces were worth seeing.”
“Your Highness has quite the mean streak, doesn’t he?”
“Must’ve learned it from you.”
“When did I ever—”
“Today.”
I let out a quiet sigh.
“Next time someone insults you again…”
“Yeah?”
“I’ll go give them a piece of my mind.”
Demian chuckled and flicked his thumb and forefinger against my forehead.
“Ow!”
It stung.
I grabbed my forehead and glared at him with all the force I could muster.
“Do you know you’re actually the weird one here?”
“Your Highness is even weirder! Why are you suddenly hitting me?”
“If I wanted to see you, I could’ve just said so. ‘Come see me,’ that’s all.”
What? Where was this coming from?
As I tilted my head in confusion, Demian gave me a look like ‘I know exactly what you’re thinking’ and went on.
“Wasn’t it because you wanted to see me that you wrote ‘come too’ on the last line of your letter?”
“……That was just because I needed to treat your wound!”
“Don’t be shy about it.”
“Ahhh!”
I couldn’t hold back anymore. My face burned crimson as I shot up from my seat.
Hahaha! Demian, who’d been keeping it in all this time, suddenly burst into laughter.
What’s so funny?
After laughing for a while, Demian finally caught his breath.
He rose from where he sat. The sun had nearly set, and the sky had turned a purple-tinged hue.
“We should head back now.”
“Already?”
“Becky will be looking for you.”
“……You’re right.”
I scrambled to my feet but stumbled. My legs apparently hadn’t regained their full strength yet.
“Whoa there.”
Demian instinctively caught my arm.
“……Are you all right?”
“Yes, my legs are just a bit numb.”
As we walked, bickering lightly, the Temple’s lights glimmered in the distance.
Demian suddenly stopped in his tracks.
“……Diane.”
“Yes?”
“What you did earlier, standing up to those people for me.”
He rubbed the back of his neck, his gaze averted.
“Thank you.”
It was a brief phrase. But I could sense how much emotion lay beneath those few words.
“It was only natural.”
“It wasn’t natural at all.”
We were walking along, conversing quietly, when Becky spotted us from the Temple entrance and came running.
“Holy Maiden! Why are you so late? I was so worried!”
“I’m sorry, Becky.”
Demian turned toward the carriage and waved.
“I’ll come again.”
“And I’ll send you a letter.”
“……All right.”
As I watched the carriage fade into the distance, I called up my Status Window on impulse.
[Good Deed Gauge: 69 / 1000]
There was still a long way to go. But today, it felt like we’d both made a little progress.
Demian and I both.
* * *
Inside the carriage, Demian gazed out the window in silence.
‘How long will you keep pretending to be in pain?’
The words kept circling in his mind.
If he was honest with himself, he already knew the answer.
The act kept him safe, but it also made him nothing—a cipher, an absence.
Excluded from politics because of his supposed frailty, dismissed as harmless for the same reason.
What would ten more years of this be? Twenty? Was that even living?
‘And Diane—she’s only five, yet she’s already saving people, solving problems, changing the world.’
What am I doing?
Just hiding. Just pretending to do nothing.
Demian’s hands clenched into fists.
‘I need to try something.’
Alone. Without anyone’s help.
To find out whether he was truly a useless crown prince, or simply someone who’d never stepped out of the shadows.
One name surfaced in his thoughts.
Caelon, the Marquis.
One of the few who’d aligned with neither the Imperial Court nor Gaitel—a true member of the Neutral Faction.
Rumor had it he was ruthlessly exacting, an old man impervious to shallow flattery.
‘Perfect.’
If flattery wouldn’t work, that meant genuine ability would.
Demian watched the lights of the Imperial Palace flicker past the carriage window.
Perhaps Diane had asked only out of curiosity.
But that single question had dredged up something he’d avoided asking himself for far too long.
‘Forget the act of being sick—what can I actually do?’
He didn’t have an answer yet. But he could find out.
Alone.
Without anyone’s help.
The image from earlier in the day returned to him.
Diane, unflinching before those aristocratic boys, speaking with perfect clarity.
Barely five years old.
‘And I’m seven.’
Crown prince, no less.
Yet I’ve hidden behind illness and waited for others to be angry on my behalf.
Shame burned through him.
He didn’t want to admit it. But it was true.
Demian leaned his head back against the carriage wall.
‘I need to arrange a meeting.’
With Marquis Caelon. In secret.
He began calculating what pretext would seem natural, when he could visit without raising suspicion.
His mind ran through several possibilities.
Could he hide behind Imperial Court business, or simply pose as a private visitor?
Either way, he’d need to prepare carefully.
The Marquis wasn’t someone to underestimate.
Even rumor alone made that clear.
‘What if I fail?’
The thought flickered across his mind, and Demian shook his head.
Failure didn’t matter. At least if he tried, there would be a next time.
The carriage had come to a halt before the Imperial Palace.
Demian stared at the lights beyond the window, murmuring softly.
“……Tomorrow. I’ll need to send someone.”
Without telling anyone.
Not Gaitel. Not the Temple.
Just this one step, taken alone.
A faint smile curved his lips.
It was a feeling he hadn’t experienced in a long time—a quickening of the pulse, a sense of being alive.

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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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