~Chapter 16~
“Dada, you got headaches lately? Sometimes you see two of things? At night your eyes hurt, and you even hate the moonlight, huh?”
I recited the words from the parchment I’d seen earlier.
“…What did you just say?”
Kaelos froze at the child so smoothly describing his exact symptoms.
“I know why. I can fix it.”
I hadn’t noticed before, but the stars surrounding him were shattered and trembling in chaos.
If this continued, he wouldn’t live much longer.
Left unchecked, the condition would worsen until even daylight burned his eyes, the headaches grew unbearable, and finally—he’d lose his sight.
And that wouldn’t be the end.
“…Fix it? And how would you know that?”
“I’m…”
Esther rolled her eyes dramatically, dragging out the pause. His gaze stayed locked on her.
“…a genius.”
“….”
His face twisted instantly.
“Seriously!”
Objectively speaking, she was strong, clever, capable—and knew more than most. She was a genius.
“You claim you know my illness?”
“Yes!”
His expression hardened.
The innocent-faced child spoke with certainty, but this was an illness he’d spent a year consulting countless famed doctors about—with no results.
And now, this five-year-old he barely saw, suddenly claiming to know?
“What is it, then?”
He asked, half-skeptical.
“Divine Sickness.”
“…What?”
“Divine Sickness.”
“Never heard of such a thing.”
His curt, dismissive tone made Esther’s lips pout.
Divine Sickness was exactly what it sounded like—an affliction caused by receiving too much divine power, more than a human could handle.
In the old days, there had been many humans brimming with divine power.
When the realms of gods and demons were still lively, spirits were common. Some rare humans even summoned divine beasts, called Godbeasts.
But sometimes, exceptional humans drew too much attention from the gods, who overloaded them with divine power until they fell ill.
That was Divine Sickness.
Rare, yes—but not unknown in ancient times.
So a thousand years really is a long time.
Esther flicked her bangs out of her eyes, messy from poor care.
“Dada, if you keep piling it up, you’ll break. Enduring it isn’t good. You’re not a god.”
By the time his sight went, his divine power would explode outward.
His body would try to survive by expelling the power, hurting countless others in the process.
Kaelos’s eyes widened.
Words he’d never expected from such a child.
“The fix is simple. Dada makes a Relic.”
“Make a relic?”
“Uh-huh.”
“The ore needed for that is limited. Stones that can withstand divine power are rare, and craftsmen skilled enough to work them rarer still.”
He explained, tiredly, as if to a child talking nonsense.
Crafting a relic wasn’t just pouring power into a stone—it demanded the highest skill.
The child frowned.
“If you understand, go back now. This isn’t a place for you. Nor is becoming a Saint.”
He had no idea what gave her the audacity to think she could intrude here.
How she’d even gained that rare divine artifact from the prayer room, he couldn’t fathom.
She’d never been close to the gods.
Even if she truly had been chosen, the temple was no place for her.
It was called the house of God, but in the end, it was filled with humans.
Less corrupt than the imperial court, maybe—but filthy all the same.
Every kind of schemer passed through daily, itching for a chance to exploit the temple’s name.
And a five-year-old Saint dropped into the middle of that?
He could already picture the greedy pigs swarming her.
The child dropped her head, as though disappointed.
Kaelos cast her a sidelong glance, then looked away.
Just a little more fear, and she’ll go back on her own.
He was about to speak again—
“Ah! Here!”
The child hopped down from the sofa, ran to a wall map, and bounced in place, pointing eagerly.
“Here it is! What Dada’s looking for!”
“…What?”
“This one! Ugh, too short!”
Face scrunched, she stomped her little feet.
Kaelos instinctively rose from the sofa and moved closer.
He stopped mid-step, though—because the small body, the scrunched little face, stirred a memory of someone he’d once loved fiercely.
The child tugged his trouser leg twice, then lifted her arms wide.
“Pick me up, Dada.”
“…Shameless.”
Yet he bent and scooped her into one arm.
He expected some weight, given her stubborn spirit, but she was light—far too light. So much so he nearly staggered.
…Why is she this light?
He frowned, studying her face up close.
From afar he hadn’t noticed, but aside from the faint baby fat in her cheeks, she was gaunt.
So the reports were true. Not only disobedient, but barely eating as well.
Whenever he asked the servants he’d planted in the household, their updates were never good.
Mostly tales of her running wild and refusing to listen.
“Here, Dada.”
She pointed confidently. He turned his head.
Her tiny finger aimed at a mountain range.
“…The Jillian Mountains? There’s nothing there.”
Jagged cliffs, barren and inhospitable.
A land with no resources at all.
“There’s something there for making relics.”
“…There? Impossible. The capital would have surveyed it many times already.”
“Nope. It’s there.”
“And how would you know?”
His sharp tone made Esther hesitate.
Good question. How would she explain this?
“Um… It just suddenly went vroom! in my head, all at once…”
She waved her hands vaguely, unable to give a real reason.
“…So you’ve received divine authority.”
No, she hadn’t received a thing.
“…Did that authority also tell you about this Divine Sickness?”
Also no.
“Uh-huh.”
But it was easier than explaining—and safer than being accused of heresy.
“…Troublesome.”
If she truly had divine authority, then everything bizarre she’d said made sense.
…Again.
He and his adopted sibling had both manifested divine powers and ended up bound to the temple.
If this child’s abilities were discovered, she’d have no choice but to belong to it as well.
His frown deepened sharply.
“One last time: go back. This isn’t your place.”
“…I can help.”
“And who in this temple do you think needs your help?”
He set her down with chilling finality.
“You think the temple is a happy place? There’s nothing good here. Least of all for a child like you.”
“But…”
Back at the mansion, she was too restricted.
Being a Saint fit too well for her goals.
Sure, I asked Shiphon to help me, but the problem is my family hates me too much.
No trust, too young—servants and kin alike refused to lend real aid.
Maybe outside, where no one knew her, things would be easier.
So she opened her mouth again.
“Then… if my help helps Dada, can I just get a house?”
Esther decided to adjust the plan—leave home legally.
“A house?”
He’d be glad to see the burden gone, wouldn’t he?
“Yup. Then I won’t bother Dada. Won’t be a Saint. I’ll stay quiet.”
She could fend for food. With Shiphon and Ross, she’d manage fine.
And earning money would be simple—whether selling precious information like the location of Dark Night Ore, or using her star-reading abilities to predict vague futures.
“Ha!”
He snorted.
Her risky proposal sounded like nothing more than childish rebellion to him.
“I’ve heard you refuse lessons and cause trouble constantly. Tell me plainly—what’s the problem? I’ll handle it.”
Despite his weariness, he knelt to her eye level, asking seriously.
Esther recognized his misconception clearly.
So she carefully enunciated each word:
“My room’s too cold. I read weird books all the time.”
True enough.
Though after binding Shiphon, she hadn’t read so much.
“They always hit me.”
Not exactly true, but sympathy was vital.
Sure, no outright beatings—but swats and pushes still counted as violence to a child.
“Last time, my cousin told me to kneel.”
She’d retaliated by gifting them a swarm of squeaking rats, of course.
But she slyly kept her own deeds to herself.
“…What?”
The bait was taken.
