The Cowardly Baby Saint Sees Ghosts - Chapter 62

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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 62
“Your Highness, you’re truly going alone?”
The Chief Attendant had asked more than once.
“His Majesty himself found the Marquis Kaylene uncomfortable to receive.”
The Marquis had a temperament so difficult it was almost legendary, and with wealth enough that he wanted for nothing—a man known to lack ambition in all things.
That such a man should have the sickly, frail Crown Prince visit him alone was cause enough for worry.
“Still, I need to see him. There’s something I must discuss.”
“……Very well. Please take care on your way.”
Demian donned a worn overcoat.
It bore no Imperial insignia—merely the plain dress of a common nobleman’s son.
He chose a carriage that would draw no notice either.
His escort was minimal, and he left them waiting before the city gates.
No one must catch wind of this journey; he had to move as quietly as possible.
‘It’s fine. It’s just a courtesy visit.’
He told himself this more than once, yet he could not still the faint tremor at his fingertips born of tension.
The Kaylene Marquis Mansion stood in the Capital Outskirts, in a quiet place.
The estate was less ornate than he’d expected. Only the weight of age permeated every corner—the gravity of old things.
The Butler showed Demian to the Study.
“Marquis, you have a visitor.”
“……Didn’t I say I was busy?”
A low, irritated voice drifted out. Only when the Butler added something cautiously did the door finally open.
A white-haired elder glanced at Demian over his spectacles, then returned his gaze to the documents in his hands.
“……I pay my respects to the Crown Prince.”
“It’s been a while, Marquis.”
“Do sit. This won’t take long.”
He had no interest in him. None whatsoever.
Demian found that indifference strange. The noblemen he’d met thus far had all been more courteous than necessary in public, at least.
“I felt we barely spoke properly at the charity gathering.”
Demian spoke first.
“……Is that so.”
The Marquis did not lift his eyes from the documents.
“And I was grateful for the help you gave back then.”
Eager to keep the conversation flowing, Demian broached something from long ago—when the Marquis had handled a matter for him instead.
But the response was cold.
“Think nothing of it. There was nothing I did.”
“Still, I know you looked out for me back then.”
“……Yes, yes.”
He was clearly not paying attention. Demian felt a creeping urgency rise in him.
‘At this rate, it will be nothing but a formal courtesy call.’
“How have you been keeping, these days?”
The Marquis Kaylene asked perfunctorily. There was no genuine curiosity in his tone.
“It varies from day to day.”
“I see.”
The conversation stalled. Silence stretched awkwardly between them.
The Marquis Kaylene turned back to his documents, nearly as if Demian had ceased to exist.
Demian’s gaze wandered, and he spotted a Chessboard set on a table in one corner of the study. A game in progress.
“……Do you enjoy Chess?”
“Yes. For leisure.”
“And your opponent?”
“These days, there’s hardly anyone. They all dislike losing.”
The Marquis Kaylene set down his documents and let slip a faint smile.
It was the first genuine expression he’d shown, though it was not directed at Demian.
“Your Highness, I think we should conclude your visit here. I’m rather occupied.”
It was all but an order to leave. Demian felt a spike of panic.
‘If I leave now, I’ll confirm nothing.’
He rose from his seat, and let his gaze drift naturally toward the Chessboard.
“……Did you place that Knight there this turn?”
“……Why do you ask?”
“That position means the white Rook can check your King with just two moves.”
The Marquis Kaylene’s hand stilled.
“……What?”
He settled back into his seat and studied the board anew. His pace had shifted dramatically.
“Here, the Knight was blocking this square, but that last move has inadvertently sealed off its escape route as well.”
Kaylene Marquis scrutinized the board for a long moment, his eyes tracing the white Rook’s path of movement over and over.
“……Indeed.”
It was a move he himself had overlooked.
“Then, what should I have done instead?”
His tone had shifted entirely. Gone was the irritation from before.
“You should have withdrawn the Knight first. That way you’d protect the King and create a space to actually capture the opponent’s Rook on your next move. There’s only that one square where his Rook can move.”
“……Only one, you say. How can you be certain?”
Kaylene Marquis asked, his eyes alight with genuine curiosity.
“All the other squares are blocked by your pawns. And they ended up that way naturally, because of the moves you made earlier.”
Kaylene Marquis looked at Demian again. It was a gaze entirely different from before.
“……How old did you say you were?”
“Seven.”
“……Seven.”
The old man murmured the word low, his face etched with disbelief.
“Your Highness, who taught you such things?”
“No one taught me. I simply saw it.”
In truth, spending so much time bedridden with nothing to do, he’d read extensively from Chess literature and run countless simulations alone—the result of nothing but patient accumulation.
In short, he’d been fortunate.
“……You simply… saw it.”
Kaylene Marquis’s eyes narrowed. The indifference from moments before vanished, replaced by a sharp, incisive curiosity.
“Does Your Highness always think in such a manner? Seeing whatever presents itself?”
“……I tend to, yes.”
“Then do you see politics the same way?”
The question struck like a sudden blow. Demian froze for an instant.
‘He had no interest until just now.’
The sudden shift in his demeanor felt oddly burdensome.
“Politics—I don’t think I’m at a stage where I can claim to understand anything yet.”
He answered carefully.
“There’s no need for humility. From that single move alone, I’ve gained a sense of what manner of person Your Highness is.”
Kaylene Marquis leaned forward.
“It strikes me as strange that someone with such eyes would hide away on the pretext of illness all this time.”
“……I wasn’t hiding. I was exercising caution.”
Demian corrected him calmly.
“A fortress built without proper foundations will crumble. I won’t make that mistake.”
“What efforts have you undertaken to lay those foundations?”
Kaylene Marquis’s words struck at the heart of the matter.
Demian did not answer. Yet he did not look away.
“……Marquis.”
“Yes.”
“Might I call on you again sometime?”
“……Of course.”
A different sort of smile played at the corners of Kaylene Marquis’s mouth.
“Next time, we’ll play properly—not merely watch.”
“I look forward to it.”
As Demian departed the Marquis Mansion, he maintained an air of composure.
But the moment the carriage door closed, he exhaled the breath he’d been holding.
‘It worked.’
That detached gaze from before had transformed entirely by the end.
Demian gazed out the carriage window and spoke softly to himself.
“……Have I taken the first step?”
There was no certainty.
But at least he hadn’t accomplished nothing.
That was enough.
* * *
In the Temple at that same moment, Ceria and I walked side by side down a corridor.
It was the first time the two of us had stayed together so long.
“I heard today’s Blessing Consultation is being handled by you and the Saint together.”
Ceria laughed awkwardly as she spoke.
“The Priest said that new trainees should be paired with senior staff members to make rounds together.”
“Yes, that’s right.”
“But why am I with the Saint?”
I pressed my lips shut.
Originally it was meant to be Rochelle Priest who would show Ceria around, but I had insisted on introducing her myself instead.
In that moment, a small greeting escaped from Ceria.
“…Thank you for taking care of me.”
Ceria bowed her head, her face slightly tense.
“It’s my pleasure.”
I smiled back and replied in kind.
Since we weren’t yet particularly close, the conversation kept stopping and starting.
We made a quick tour of the Temple, and now it was time for the Blessing Consultation.
“If it gets too difficult watching from the side, you can say so.”
I only had to sit and listen along with the others while bestowing the blessing, but the trainees had to stand and observe the entire time, so it was bound to be taxing.
“No, I’m in a learning position too. I should watch and learn from the side.”
Ceria answered seriously.
* * *
On the way to the Counseling Room, Becky approached and handed me a letter.
“Saint, it came from the Imperial Palace. It’s quite short this time.”
I opened the envelope. Inside, there was only a single line.
Next time we meet, I’ll tell you something fun.
“…What is this?”
I tilted my head in confusion.
Demian had never sent such a brief letter before.
Naria glanced sideways at me.
“…What letter is it?”
“Oh, it’s nothing really.”
I quickly folded the letter and tucked it into my breast.
For some reason, I had a strange premonition that something significant had happened.
Whether for better or worse.
‘Why does this make me so uneasy?’

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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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