Chapter 2 : Ugly five years old (2)

I still remember that moment vividly.
The day light poured from the sky, enveloping my body, and the bishops, who I had looked up to for so long, knelt before me in reverence.
The day fireworks burst high above, and countless citizens of the Empire filled the streets, shouting with joy.
The beautiful beginning of that day, when I was bestowed the undeserved title of Saintess and met the Hero for the first time, lingers vividly in my mind.
I was so clumsy and trembling a lot back then.

“What are you spacing out for?”
“Ah, Hero. It’s nothing. Just reminiscing.”
“Spouting nonsense again. If you have time for that, get some sleep.”
“Hehe, as you wish.”
Perhaps I was trembling because of the Hero’s gruff way of speaking.
His massive frame, larger than a bear, with a deep scar across his face.
That first meeting, where he looked down at me with a giant greatsword strapped to his back, taller than my entire height.
I couldn’t help but shrink back in fear.

[Excerpt from Episode □□. The Saintess’s Monologue]

*****

A naughty five-year-old who realized too soon that this world is inside a novel.
I wish I hadn’t known this cruel truth, but having learned it, there wasn’t much I could do.

“Mom.”
“Yes, sweetie?”
“I want to earn money.”
Even when I confide in my legal guardian about wanting to save up for my future travels, her response is predictable.
“Uh-huh, sweetie. What kind of work can a five-year-old do?”
“…Like delivering newspapers.”
“Right, right. Just finish your food~”
Mom just smiles brightly and brushes it off, telling me to talk sense.

“Mom.”
“Yes, what does my boy want to say this time?”
“Then give me some allowance.”
Even when this ungrateful son, already being raised by her, shamelessly asks for travel funds, her reply is sharp.
“Sweetie, if your dad, who’s working his bones off from dawn, heard you say that, he’d be heartbroken. Don’t you think?”
“….”
Her cunning tactic to guilt me into being a proper delinquent leaves me speechless.

Does a younger body make your mind younger too?
I shouldn’t be that far off from her age, mentally, but I can’t win an argument with her.
To be fair, I wasn’t exactly a smooth talker in my past life either—that’s the real issue.

“I need to grow up faster. There’s nothing I can do now.”
“Pfft, sometimes you sound like such an old soul. Are you really five?”
Well, you see.
“….”
I’ve told you.
I can’t exactly say your son was an adult who got hit by a truck and died.

So instead of the truth, I spit out a grumpy reply.
“…And you act so childish. Are you really twenty-five?”
“Hey! Where’d you get that bad habit of never letting a word slide?!”
No, but seriously.
There’s no need to pinch my cheeks with such emotion.
Her emotionally charged hand stings.
And as always, I’m reminded that no matter what, the gap between adult and child is impossible to bridge.

So, caught in the grip of my thoroughly annoyed mom, I dangle there until my cheeks are red and slightly swollen.

But honestly.
This is totally something I got from you.

Well.
Despite the somewhat noisy morning, today is a particularly special day.
Every day since being reborn has felt special, but this one especially so.
It’s the kind of day where, even with an adult’s mind, my heart races like a child’s, brimming with excitement.
So, despite having an adult’s mind, I got a bit carried away.

“Mom, let’s go already!”
“Sweetie… there’s still over an hour left. No need to rush… Eek! Son, don’t pull my skirt! It’ll tear, it’ll tear!!”
I tug hard at the skirt Mom loves so much.
She keeps saying “okay” but has been sipping tea for an hour, so I’m a bit annoyed.
This is my revenge as a son against an adult who’s leisurely ignoring my eager gaze.

“We promised to go early today. You said if I ate lots of bell peppers and carrots, you’d make it happen.”
“Alright, alright, I get it!”

Today is the day the prophecy declaring the Hero and Saintess will descend.
The day the scene marking the start of the novel unfolds before my eyes, and the condition for my request to go see it was eating those bell peppers and carrots.
But holding my diet hostage for a week and now dawdling? That’s not very adult-like.
It makes me, who forced down those hated veggies, feel pretty pitiful.
This naughty twenty-five-year-old.

So.
“Die, skirt.”
“Ugh, come on!”
Rise up, even at the cost of the skirt’s sacrifice.

Ah, what a fine day.
The lump on my head stings a bit, but the weather is perfect.
A clear blue sky, as if blessings straight out of the novel’s pages are about to descend.
Under that cloudless sky, the Empire’s citizens are all heading in one direction.
To Kate Square, with its clear view of the palace, to witness a fleeting moment.

Mom and I are among the crowd, moving toward the square.
“Son, don’t let go of my hand. Hold on tight, okay?”
“I know, I know. I’m not some little kid, so stop saying that.”
“Sorry, but you are a little kid.”
“….”
Five years old is plenty grown, right?

Instead of answering my giggling mom, I grip her hand tightly and pull her toward the square.
She keeps dawdling, and the time for the prophecy is already approaching.
“Sweetie, it’s fine to go slowly~”
“…We’re already super late.”

The moment the prophecy descends, light will pour miraculously from the sky, illuminating some adventurer destined to be the Hero and a nun from the Papal Order.
The first scene heralding the novel’s start.
I said my travels matter more than the protagonists’ journey or the novel’s plot, but honestly, who can resist wanting to see a scene from the novel with their own eyes?

That’s why I’m hurrying so much to witness it.
The moment the clock tower’s hands strike one o’clock, light will cascade down, but it’s already past 12:50.
This is all because of Mom’s dawdling.
This naughty twenty-five-year-old.

“Son! Slow down a bit… It’s hard for Mommy to keep up, so let’s go slowly, okay?”
“No way. If we go slow, we won’t get a good view.”

And in an instant, the hand I was holding so tightly slips away.
“No, sweetie… Oh no, I lost your hand…!”
“Ah.”

I lost Mom’s hand.
I thought I was holding on with all my strength, but a child’s grip is just so weak.
Amid the surging crowd, I end up committing the cliché of losing her hand.
Her voice is swept away by the noisy crowd, fading into the distance.

I try to head toward where she might be, but to avoid being trampled by adult footsteps, I have no choice but to veer off.
I make my way toward a less crowded alley, near a wall’s corner, stepping carefully.
I reach the wall and lean against it, but even jumping up and down, a tiny kid like me can’t possibly catch Mom’s eye.
I scan the surroundings like a meerkat, but there’s no sign of her.

“…I’m screwed.”
Honestly.
If I just head to the square’s lost-and-found, Mom will probably find me, but I’ll definitely get an earful.
“….”
I don’t really want to, but I might need to pull off some Oscar-worthy fake tears.
I’m not an adult; I’m a kid.
At this age, I can still dodge a scolding with tears.

So, with a deep sigh, I glance up at the clock tower to check the time.
But.
There’s a reason why some places aren’t crowded.
Blocked by the wall, I can’t even see the square, let alone the clock tower.

I was so full of anticipation to witness the novel’s opening scene with my own eyes, but all I’ve earned is Mom’s worry and anger.
That’s a bit disappointing.
It feels like…
The inevitable role of an extra, destined to stay far from the main plot.

I didn’t have any grand desire to meddle in the story’s events, but being forcibly pushed away from it like this makes me feel oddly dejected.

And then.
The moment I turn my head toward the alley, filled with that disappointment.
Light pours down from the sky.
La—
A sound accompanies the light.

I stand there, far—very far—from the scene.
The gentle sound of angelic singing fills the air, and radiant beams of light illuminate two spots in the square.
In the square, everyone must be kneeling in reverence, reciting the prophecy that descended with the light, proclaiming the birth of the Hero and Saintess.

It’s such a shame I can’t see it up close, but even witnessing it from afar makes my heart pound like a child’s.
The story is finally beginning.
The novel I was reading until the moment I died is now taking its first step before my eyes, heading toward an ending I don’t know.

Perhaps that’s why.
Maybe it’s the overwhelming emotions.
Or the reality of being lost as the light fades.
I casually pass by a girl sprawled in the corner of the alley.

Faded, ashen hair.
Equally dull, gray eyes.
Ragged clothes barely hanging on her frame, and a rotting plank beneath her.
I see all this, yet I simply step back toward the crowd.

Maybe.
I just chose to look away.
She’s probably just another cliché setup in this novel’s world, one of the countless extras destined to die, not worth valuing.
In my past life, I didn’t go out of my way to help the unfortunate, so why should I bother saving someone in a novel?

Even though her dull gray eyes were fixed on me.
That’s what I told myself.