Episode 14.

Damian recalled the first time he had met Diane. She had been a frail, skinny child with ashen hair, covered in dirt and scars. She was clearly someone who had never experienced the stability of a loving touch.

"She'll probably like it," he said, pointing to the Pope's bulging pocket. "The candy, I mean. It's sweet, after all."

"Oh my."

The Pope smiled and reached out, gently stroking Damian's black hair.

Flustered by the sudden physical contact, Damian quickly stepped back.

"Thank you. You have grown quite a lot as well, Your Highness."

"…!"

"Please get along well with Diane."

"Hmph."

Damian snorted and hastily fixed his tousled hair.

"I was planning to do that even if you didn't ask."

"Haha."

The Pope gazed warmly at the boy's retreating back as Damian spoke bluntly and hurried away down the hall.

The deep, dark circles and pale complexion were nowhere to be found; instead, the young Crown Prince radiated the vitality of someone finally eating and sleeping well.

"His Highness the Crown Prince is seven years old, isn't he," the Pope murmured.

"Yes, Your Holiness," Michael replied from his side.

"A two-year difference."

The Pope's deep green eyes, which had just held such warmth, sank into a cold, protective chill. Michael carefully gauged his superior's mood.

However, the Cardinal found the reaction completely understandable. After all, this was the same Pope who had just agonized for hours over whether to offer a five-year-old more candy before finally mustering the courage to approach her.

The Pope stared down the empty hallway where the Crown Prince had disappeared.

"The Imperial Palace is a complicated place."

"Yes."

"There, you end up imitating adults faster than the adults themselves."

The Pope's voice lowered slightly.

"I do not want Diane to get swept up in the affairs of such a place."

"Your Holiness truly cherishes the Saintess."

"Diane is a baby Saintess. She is a child who needs to drink milk every morning, enjoy plenty of naps, and have someone hold her hand."

The Pope spoke with unyielding firmness.

"I do not think such a child should have to worry about Imperial Palace politics already. I want her to retain her innocence for a little longer."

Michael smiled faintly instead of answering. The Pope did not miss that subtle expression.

"Why are you smiling?"

"It is nothing."

"That is not the face of someone for whom it is nothing."

"It's just… Your Holiness sounds exactly like a father."

The Pope paused for a moment. He turned his head away, hiding his expression.

"Haha…"

He only let out a soft laugh, refusing to answer.

"Diane must be waiting."

As the Pope walked away, the crinkling sound of the candy wrappers stuffed in his pockets lingered continuously in Michael's ears.

I forced two candies into my mouth and pasted on a smile.

I almost drooled from the intense, sour lemon flavor, but hastily sucked it back in.

"Itsh… itsh dewicious."

"Do you like it?"

"Ye…"

"I will give you more next time."

With wavering eyes, I looked in bewilderment at the Pope, who was staring down at me with a tremendously pleased expression.

At first, he had merely pressed a single candy into my hand whenever we crossed paths in the hallway. Now, he visited my room several times a day, refusing to leave until he watched me chew and swallow the entire piece.

Flashing a thumbs-up while chewing just to appease him made me feel like an exhausted office worker navigating corporate social politics.

"Um."

The Pope hesitated. No matter how often I looked at him, I just couldn't get used to his sheer beauty.

If only his hair were longer, one could almost mistake him for a stunning woman.

Right then, he spoke.

"I am always… thinking about you, Saintess."

Ah, that startled me.

If he went around saying things like that with that face, a lot of people would get the wrong idea.

He held out a handful of candies to me. The wrappers were thoroughly crumpled and crinkled from his nervous fidgeting.

"So, if you happen to tell me what you like—"

"Your Holiness."

Somehow, looking at his awkward demeanor… I felt like I finally understood.

"Do you happen to want to become closer to me?"

So, that was it. It was like a clumsy kid handing out candies to classmates on the first day of a new semester to make friends.

Perhaps I had hit the bullseye, because the Pope said nothing.

Come to think of it, he was my official guardian.

"Yes."

Seeing the Pope nod, I let out a small sigh.

"Then please drop the formalities and speak comfortably to me."

Honestly, it was uncomfortable. It felt bizarre for a man with power comparable to the Emperor to use strict honorifics with a five-year-old child who had been a mere orphan just days ago.

No matter how much I was revered as the Saintess, I was still just a little kid.

The Pope seemed to consider this briefly before parting his lips.

"…Alright."

Only then could I smile comfortably.

At that exact moment—pop, pop!—a pink window appeared before my eyes, accompanied by tiny, celebratory digital firecrackers.

I stared at the glowing status window with a thoroughly sour expression.

Having never received a family's love in my previous life, the concepts of a "mom" and "dad" were incredibly precious to me. They weren't words I could just throw around.

If I were to actually call him that…

I forcibly derailed that train of thought.

"Ah, and about His Highness the Crown Prince."

At my words, the expression of the priest—Michael—standing behind the Pope subtly changed.

"Yes. Tell me."

"Well, even sitting still, half of my holy power already drained out."

The Pope let out a low "Hmm" and rubbed his chin.

"Then we'll have to increase the number of visits."

"Yes. It seems I'll have to meet him frequently to replenish it."

"Won't that be hard on you?"

"Actually, I almost failed to control it a little earlier—"

A sharp intake of breath escaped from behind the Pope.

That priest had been bothering me for a while now.

"—but fortunately, I immediately reverted it back."

"…"

I deliberately didn't mention that the Crown Prince had seen a ghost. Neither the Pope nor Michael could see them anyway, so it would only cause unnecessary panic.

"You almost lost control, you mean."

I clamped my mouth shut. The atmosphere in the room had suddenly turned eerie.

"That sounds dangerous."

"I'm really okay."

"I can't believe you when you say you're okay now."

The Pope dropped to one knee, bringing his eyes level with mine.

In the fleeting silence, I quietly faced him.

The situation felt incredibly familiar. It overlapped with my memories of the funeral hall. When I had first exposed Gordon Black as Lady Camila's murderer, the Pope had also matched his eye level with mine to speak to me.

"I received a report that you've been heard groaning in your sleep every night."

He affectionately stroked my hair and sighed.

"In my eyes, it looks like you're overworking yourself right now."

"…Overworking?"

"You don't need to go out of your way to prove your usefulness here, Diane. We love you exactly as you are."

I took a hesitant step back.

"I am only doing what I have to do."

"Back then, when I heard the news that you had found a corpse in the middle of the night…"

He gritted his teeth. He seemed to be vividly recalling the sheer panic he felt upon hearing the report.

"My heart sank to my stomach."

"…!"

"I felt as though I had planted another bad memory in you, right when you had only just escaped from your suffering."

"Your Holiness. I am truly alright."

Of course, discovering a murdered corpse might leave a trauma for a normal child, but this wasn't the first or second time I had dealt with ghosts and death.

Most importantly, the incident was wrapped up nicely.

Despite my adamant attitude, the Pope took a reluctant step back. He smiled a somewhat bitter smile and reached out to stroke my head again.

But the moment the shadow of his large hand fell across my face, I flinched, shrinking back instinctively.

The ingrained memories of the orphanage director's physical abuse hadn't yet faded away.

"Meow."

Cheese let out a soft cry. It sounded a bit shaky, but perhaps that was just my imagination.

"…Alright. Curing the Crown Prince is important, but let's promise not to infuse so much holy power that you lose control."

The Pope's warm, deep green eyes, filled with profound compassion, captured my reflection.

I nodded and held out my pinky finger.

"What is this?"

"A promise."

I grabbed the Pope's stiff, large hand and extended his pinky finger to mirror mine.

Hooking our fingers together and pressing our thumbs against each other, I smiled brightly.

"It means we will never break it."

The Pope's eyes widened momentarily in shock before returning to their usual gentle curve.

He smiled in return and firmly pressed his thumb against mine.