Episode 11.

Before long, the feral boy stretched his body out fully. He licked the back of his hand in a beam of sunlight and began meticulously grooming his messy hair.

"A cat?" I mumbled.

As soon as the brief remark left my lips, the status window popped up with a 'poof,' as if it had been waiting for me to figure it out.

That must have been a miserable way to live.

I suddenly understood why the Imperial Family was trying so desperately to hide the Crown Prince's symptoms from the public.

"If a female ghost possessed him, it would be a real headache."

I also understood why the rumor that the Crown Prince had lost his mind from the sorrow of losing the Empress had started in the first place.

"If I had to live like that, I would have lost my mind, too."

I thought of a plan—a way for both of us to survive the perilous future of the original novel.

"Your Highness," I whispered softly to the boy.

"I'll exorcise the ghosts for you, so please don't kill me when you grow up."

It was a one-sided deal between the two of us.

"If you don't remember this later, I can't help it."

I licked my dry lips.

Whether he remembered my help or not, I resolved to protect this Crown Prince from ghosts from now on in order to extend my own life.

No matter how I looked at it, it seemed I had a fatal soft spot for young children.

Instead of approaching him hastily, I remained plopped on the floor. The Crown Prince, who hissed aggressively every time our eyes met, gradually began to slow his rapid breathing.

I couldn't tell if it was just my imagination, but it looked as though every strand of his hair was standing on end. The boy's crimson eyes wavered unsteadily in the shadows.

However, I just sat crouched in front of the door, yawning apathetically. I blinked slowly, a universal feline sign to show I had no intention of harming him. It was what you'd call a 'slow blink' strategy.

"Don't be so tense. I have no intention of harming Your Highness."

"Don't come closer."

"……!"

It was human speech.

Perhaps having regained a sliver of sanity, he muttered in a trembling voice, pressing the heels of his hands against his flushed red eyes.

"Why did you come here?"

He backed away, trying to hide the fact that he had been crying.

"I didn't want anyone to find out about something like this."

"Your Highness. I can cure you―"

"Go away!" he shouted, aggressively throwing a velvet cushion at me.

Because the soft projectile didn't pose any threat, I slowly crawled closer to him.

"I told you to get out!"

"I can do it."

With a face completely devoid of laughter, I reached out and firmly grabbed both of his wrists. At the suddenly closed distance, he avoided my gaze and huffed in panic.

"Your Highness. Look at my eyes."

I held his cold, trembling hands tightly and spoke with absolute earnestness.

"I am the Saintess."

"……"

"The reason no one has been able to cure Your Highness until now is because I wasn't here."

Still, his condition was truly poor. For the future ruler of the Empire to be swayed by a beast was damaging to his dignity.

Since I had plucked a few strands of his hair for a quest, I would detach this ghost as an apology.

"Come out of that body now," I commanded the spirit.

Instantly, the human clarity vanished from his crimson eyes. The Crown Prince bared his teeth, violently arching his back like a startled feline.

I immediately lowered my posture, slowly extending the back of my hand toward him so as not to trigger an attack.

Twitching his nose, the feral boy sniffed the air.

"……?"

Sniffing cautiously, the Crown Prince slowly crept closer to me. They say animals use their noses to determine another's emotions and hostility. It seemed to be true.

"Ah."

His forehead gently bumped against the back of my hand. At the soft, burning heat of his skin, we simultaneously held our breath.

I carefully watched him. He was completely stiff, seemingly unable to pull away. I slowly lifted my hand and began to stroke his messy hair, gently brushing it back.

As his surprisingly soft strands slipped through my fingers, I felt a little embarrassed. I wondered if I was crossing a line, considering he was still a human boy, even if he was currently acting like a cat.

"There you go, good boy," I murmured.

I was terrified he might suddenly scratch or bite me, but I continued to stroke him, projecting an aura of complete calm.

The Crown Prince stared at me, blinking slowly, before fully leaning his weight into my touch.

"……!"

The status window flashed brightly with a radiant light. It even updated its UI, adding cute cat ears to the borders.

I frowned at the loudly bursting virtual firecrackers.

"Phew, is it a success?"

I let out a sigh of relief, but the Crown Prince remained slumped against my side, unconscious.

From the boy's limp back, a cheese-colored cat radiating a faint bluish light leaped out into the air.

"Whaaat? And how am I supposed to do that?"

It was my first time ever attempting to infuse holy power into someone.

The Crown Prince, Damian Velium, had been plagued by formless entities his entire life.

Strangely, he could live like a normal person for a specific window of time each day, but for the remaining hours, he had no choice but to endure being controlled by foreign personalities.

The most humiliating part was that, even while his body was being manipulated, his memories would occasionally remain intact. Damian knew exactly how people looked at him and what kind of monstrous existence he was considered within the Imperial Palace.

However, there was one thing everyone overlooked.

He was still only seven years old.

The biggest reason he hadn't gone completely insane was the temple. Only on those sacred grounds could he exist as a normal person without time limits.

That was why, as soon as he heard the title 'Saintess' bestowed upon the grubby child he had encountered the day he stormed out of the Pope's office, his aversion had skyrocketed.

A daughter of god, they said. That child.

If she truly was a Saintess, it meant that god hadn't abandoned humanity after all.

If god really existed, why had He left Damian to live such a cursed, miserable life?

She was a child who was completely pure from head to toe. Her skin was so fair it was almost transparent, her silver hair shimmered brilliantly as if spun from crushed sunlight, and the placid purple eyes gazing out from beneath her bangs were as beautiful as jewels.

She truly looked like a being finely crafted by the divine.

Damian was angry.

Because that radiant, noble being only seemed to highlight his own pathetic, unfortunate existence.

That was why.

"Get out!"

Why.

Why did it have to be her?

The feeling of having his most shameful, feral secret discovered by the one person he wanted to hide it from—even if he died—was so devastating it couldn't be put into words.

His memories had faded in the middle of his panic, so he hadn't heard what the Saintess said to him.

Now, Damian slowly lifted his heavy eyelids.

He frowned at the bright light pouring into the room, but the discomfort only lasted a moment.

"……!"

The Saintess, muttering something to herself while holding both of his hands as he lay on the floor, came into view.

He couldn't sit up because a remarkably refreshing energy was actively circulating inside his hollow body, forcibly awakening his exhausted cells.

Damian just blankly stared at Diane.

Even though all the windows were closed, her silver hair fluttered in the air, carried by the sheer force of her overflowing holy power. As her long eyelashes fluttered, she pulled his hands closer to her chest, as if refusing to let the connection be broken.

"……"

His chest felt strangely ticklish.

Until now, no one had ever prayed for him this earnestly.

Were those confident words sincere?

Her small facial features were, how should he say it… a little cute.

At that moment, Diane, whose lips were as red as cherries, fluttered her eyes open.

Damian hurriedly clamped his eyes shut.

Erasing the embarrassing question from his mind, he focused all his nerves on Diane's reaction. As soon as the refreshing energy reached the very tips of his toes, the tight grip on his hands weakened.

"Phew."

Diane released a long breath and muttered, "Whaaat? He hasn't woken up yet?"

Diane kept muttering to herself.

"His body was definitely empty. I think it would be safe if I kept refilling it periodically."

She seemed to be analyzing his physical condition.

Damian really didn't want to get up.

"Does the effect just not show immediately?" she whispered, leaning closer.

He could feel her intense gaze staring directly at his face. It was getting too difficult to keep feigning sleep.

In the end, he staggered and pushed himself up. The moment he made eye contact with the Saintess, she hurriedly scrambled backward and dropped his hands.

"……?"

What is this reaction?

Damian was lost in thought for a moment, looking down at his empty hands that she had been holding so warmly just moments ago.

"You're… you're awake, Your Highness?"

Seeing Diane ask awkwardly with a slight blush on her cheeks, Damian felt his own face growing hot in response.

"……What happened?"

"Fortunately, I managed to separate the ghost, but if you don't refill the holy power periodically, you'll probably relapse into the exact same state."

"……"

Like this, constantly.

Damian clenched his fists.

He realized that the entities that had constantly fought to move his body at will had completely vanished.

Instead, he felt refreshed, unburdened, and entirely himself. It was the first time he had ever maintained full sanity within the Imperial Palace.

Hot tears spilled over his eyelashes and flowed down his cheeks.

Maintaining the dignity of the Crown Prince was the absolute last thing on his mind.

"I'm finally free."

"No, wait. You haven't completely escaped yet―"

"Finally……!"

Seeing the boy sobbing in pure relief, Diane closed her mouth. Unable to explain the harsh reality just yet, she merely reached out and awkwardly patted Damian's trembling shoulders.