The Cowardly Baby Saint Can See Ghosts [Novel] Chapter 17

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Episode 17.

"…"

I read the glowing letters one by one.

Geitel.
Velium.
1st Imperial Princess.

"Ha."

A sound escaped my lips—I couldn't tell if it was a dry laugh or a heavy sigh.

She was Damian's older sister and the royal who had survived the longest in the original novel's brutal war for the throne. I couldn't remember her exact fate at the end of the story.

But I did know one thing for certain.

Almost everyone who stood by Damian's side after he became a tyrant died.

And yet, Geitel was the only one whose name remained prominent in the heart of that bloody Imperial Palace until the bitter end.

Without realizing it, I clutched the fabric of my skirt tightly in my small fists.

To sum it up, the girl I had just boldly offered my hand to in friendship was none other than Damian's biological sister.

Dyeing her signature Imperial black hair to a dull brown.
The brief hesitation before giving me a fake name.
Deliberately bringing up the Crown Prince first.

It had all been a meticulously calculated act.

The funny thing was, my own approach hadn't been entirely innocent either; I had only offered my hand to build a political network.

I had assumed that anyone with the status to wander the restricted gardens could serve as a useful shield for my comfortable future plans.

Perhaps because we were both using each other, I didn't feel strangely betrayed or angry.

If we had simply held hands while hiding our true inner motives, then it was actually quite a fair relationship.

The real problem was what came next.

I tried to plop down onto my favorite bench, but my legs were so short that I had to heave my hips up just to barely perch on the edge.

My feet couldn't reach the ground, swinging uselessly in the air.

I stared blankly up at the sky.

The 1st Imperial Princess. The Crown Prince. The Pope.

I desperately didn't want to die, so why did I keep getting entangled with the main characters?

"Am I really just an extra in this novel?"

---

Three days later, Idel returned.

I was on my way back to the garden after eating a delicious breakfast and wandering around various parts of the Temple all morning.

Near the entrance, a familiar head of brown hair caught my eye.

I knew she would come.

At least, the 'Geitel' I knew from the novel wasn't the type of person to go through the trouble of checking on the Saintess only to return to the palace empty-handed.

Feigning total ignorance, I widened my eyes in delight.

"Idel!"

"…Saintess!"

Her brief, somewhat stiff response was different from our first meeting. It seemed she had determined that her previous overly-flustered act was a mistake.

We walked side-by-side deeper into the garden. Idel walked agonizingly slowly, perfectly matching my short, five-year-old strides.

Whether it was intentional or not, it felt natural.

"The weather is lovely today."

"Isn't it?"

The idle small talk began.

We talked about how pretty the Temple garden was, how the flowers bloomed even in the dead of winter, and how it was all sustained by holy power.

They were empty, circling words that clearly hid a deeper intention.

Every time our gazes crossed, she stared at me intently, as if she were weighing and measuring my every reaction.

Before long, we arrived at my favorite bench.

Idel sat down naturally, gracefully crossing her ankles. I stood beside her and subtly gauged the height of the seat.

I clicked my tongue inwardly. Deciding I didn't care how I looked, I gave a little hop, barely managing to hook my bottom onto the edge of the bench.

Idel glanced at my struggling form, then quickly averted her eyes.

…It looked like she was desperately holding something back.

"What is it?"

"…Nothing."

Despite her denial, it was blatantly obvious she was forcing herself to stare straight ahead.

Looking at the corners of her lips trembling erratically, I could easily guess how ridiculous I must have looked to her.

Grumbling only in my mind, I sat there swinging my dangling feet back and forth until she suddenly asked a question.

"How is your life in the Temple?"

"It's good. The food is great, and it's warm."

"…Is that all?"

"Isn't that enough?"

Genuinely puzzled by her reaction, I asked her back, causing Idel to blink slowly.

"I suppose so."

For a royal Princess accustomed to luxury and power, perhaps my simple answer was difficult to comprehend.

She stared out at the flowerbed and tossed out her next question as if it were nothing.

"Is the Pope a good person?"

From what I remembered, the relationship between the Imperial Family and the Temple was far from amicable. She was likely trying to figure out why the Temple was suddenly approaching Damian.

"He is a very good person."

"In what way?"

"He pays attention to me so I don't feel lonely. He also makes sure I eat well."

He had even made sure to personally prepare holy water for me during our very first, chaotic meeting.

I nodded to myself, seriously evaluating the Pope in my mind.

Out of all the people I had met in this world, he was a genuinely good adult.

"Wow, I see. Do the other people in the Temple treat you well, too, Saintess?"

"Well… I'm sure some people like me, but wouldn't there be people who dislike me, too?"

"Why is that?"

"Because I'm a commoner."

Class was determined at birth and could never be changed. Thinking about that harsh reality made me feel a little gloomy.

"What do you do when that happens?"

At her persistent, probing questions, I turned to look at Idel. Seeing her smiling brightly as if she had no malicious intent made me feel a bit strange.

"I just say hello."

"…That's all?"

"Yes. It's not like I did anything wrong anyway. Hating me is their choice and their problem."

Her perfectly arched eyebrows twitched upward a fraction of an inch.

"You don't feel wronged?"

"I do feel upset," I admitted honestly.

"But if I treat them poorly just because they hate me, then I become no different from them."

The cruel face of the orphanage director who had abused me flashed through my mind.

I remembered the agonizing moments when I had clenched my jaw and relied on the memories of my past life just to endure, desperate to never become a monster like him.

I wasn't trying to pretend to be purely angelic or kind.

It was simply my way of surviving with my soul intact.

Idel remained silent for a long time.

A gentle breeze swept past, scattering a few white petals. A single petal, thrumming with faint holy power, drifted down and landed perfectly on her lap.

She didn't brush it off. Instead, she stared at it before finally opening her mouth.

"Saintess, don't you find it exhausting to heal sick people?"

Her voice had dropped significantly lower than before.

"It's a duty, isn't it? Something you are forced to do because you were chosen by god."

This question felt fundamentally different from the others.

Sick people.

It was only natural that Damian came to mind, but for the Princess to ask this question from her position, it must have taken a fair amount of courage.

It felt like the person hiding behind a mask had finally inched closer to the truth she desperately wanted to speak.

I thought for a moment.

There was no reason to lie.

"It's both."

"…Both?"

"I do it because it's my duty, but when they actually get better, it feels really good. I don't hate that feeling."

It wasn't like I possessed some grand, overflowing love for humanity just because I was the Saintess. And since the duty was forced upon me regardless of my own desires, it certainly felt burdensome at times.

But simply watching someone in front of me stop hurting…

If only I didn't have to see ghosts as a side effect, it would be absolutely perfect.

"Are you disappointed in my answer?" I asked softly.

"…"

Idel looked at me for a long, quiet moment.

The look in her eyes had completely changed. A moment ago, her gaze had been meticulously calculating and measuring; now…

It felt as though a heavy tension had drained out of her.

Letting out a hollow, breathy laugh, she shrugged her shoulders.

"Who am I to be disappointed in the Saintess? I am only filled with gratitude."

She offered a small, vulnerable smile.

"Because I've been waiting for a very long time for someone I could truly rely on."

In those words, I could feel the heavy, genuine heart of a royal who truly cared for the people of the Empire.

Idel quietly picked up the white petal resting on her lap and gently placed it on top of my head.

"What is this for?"

"Oh, you just had something in your hair."

I was about to argue, but I let it slide. It was a clumsy, awkward prank, but it didn't feel bad.

Idel stood up from the bench, brushing off her skirt.

"My father is waiting for me, so I have to go now. Let's meet again next time."

She took a few light, graceful steps before suddenly spinning around. A mischievous, youthful grin spread across her face.

"Are you sure there's nothing going on between you and His Highness the Crown Prince?"

"I said there isn't!"

"Ahaha!"

Holding her stomach as she laughed, she maintained her smile as she muttered softly.

"Earlier, you said you feel good when a patient gets better."

"…"

"Please, don't forget those words."

It sounded like she was forcing a promise out of me, but at the same time, it sounded like a desperate plea.

To my ears, it sounded exactly like an older sister begging me to take good care of her little brother.

Surely the Princess harbored her own political ambitions. Wasn't she resentful that, despite being the First Princess, she was pushed aside in the line of succession by a younger prince?

I didn't want to get deeply involved.

My only goal was to get just close enough to the Crown Prince so the future tyrant wouldn't brutally murder me.

As I hopped down from the bench, I saw Becky practically sprinting toward me from the other side of the garden.

"Saintess! His Holiness the Pope is calling for you."

"Right now?"

"Yes! He said he has something very important to discuss with you."

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