CHAPTER 02
Just moments ago, I had been like one of the servants calling out for Lady Armel.
I’d been circling around the child, shouting her name for several minutes, and the only response I got was:
“My, the air feels so chilly.”
I was going insane. Armel rubbed her arms, looking cold, then started putting on more clothes.
‘Ugh. My blood pressure…’
Was it because I’d cursed out the author?
Sure, maybe. But it wasn’t like I posted hateful comments on the platform—I just grumbled to myself in my room!
‘No, I wouldn’t even call that cursing!’
As I fumed in frustration, Armel paid me no mind (literally—she couldn’t even sense me) and got ready to leave.
With nothing else to do alone in the room, I decided to follow her.
Maybe if I went out and wandered around, someone would be able to see me. I held onto that sliver of hope.
Floating my ghostly legs through the air, I spun around and followed Armel.
From the time we left the room until now, not a single person we encountered had recognized my form.
Not one!
A few people sensed something was there or faintly heard my voice, but they all brushed it off as their imagination.
‘This is bad.’
At this rate, I’d die a lonely death.
‘Wait—I’m already dead. Guess “dying of loneliness” doesn’t really apply to a soul.’
A magnificent castle, the kind you’d only see in pictures, came into view, but I was too consumed by worry to appreciate it.
“Even at this year’s birthday banquet, the prince didn’t come… Maybe he hates me?”
“No way! Who else would the prince care about besides you, my lady?”
“But he always turns me down…”
From their conversation, it sounded like Armel was around 13 years old.
‘Right, Armel’s supposed to be the same age as the heroine.’
The original story begins when the female protagonist is 18, so there were about five years left until the plot kicks off.
Did I really have to spend all that time wandering around alone? Just imagining it was horrible.
“Someone, anyone, please see me! Talk to meee!”
I screamed like a desperate attention-seeker and even did a silly dance right in front of them—but nothing.
“It’s especially windy today.”
Still, Armel smiled sweetly as she pulled her coat tighter around herself, and somehow, that calmed my nerves a little.
“Even bundled up in clothes, you’re still so cute, my lady! I’m sure the prince will smile at you today!”
“I hope so… but he doesn’t even allow people to say his name.”
“That’s just because he’s shy!”
Wait a second, isn’t this person next to Armel the servant who fainted earlier?
Talk about lacking awareness—her words had zero credibility.
“You really think so…?”
I turned away from their chatter and sank into thought.
The novel began when the heroine met the male lead, the 19-year-old crown prince, at a banquet at age 18. So I didn’t know much about these characters as children.
‘They must be going to meet the male lead now.’
For the first time, I found a benefit to being a ghost.
If I’d had a physical body, I might’ve greeted the male lead with a punch. At least now, I couldn’t be arrested for assaulting royalty. What a relief.
‘His name was… Mo… something? Moora? Morden?’
In the distance, I spotted a figure sitting in a rose-covered garden.
A straight back, perfect posture. His face looked sharp, even for a child.
‘Blue hair and green eyes. That’s him—the male lead.’
In a world where the royal family all had blonde hair, the male lead stood out with his blue locks. This led to disdain from others, but to me, it just looked like he had nice hair.
“It’s been a while, Your Highness. I—”
“Enough.”
He didn’t seem to care at all about Armel, who had approached him with a bright smile.
The prince turned away from her, his cold eyes meeting mine instead.
‘Wait… is he looking at me?’
He was!
“Who is that, not even bowing?”
“Pardon, Your Highness?”
Armel looked toward where the prince was pointing—right at me.
The other servants, who clearly couldn’t see me, assumed he was pointing at them and bowed even lower in panic.
Floating along beside Armel, I glided toward him.
“You can see me?”
How exciting. Was I finally going to have a real conversation?
Suddenly, even the baby version of the male lead I didn’t care for started to look adorable.
“Aaah!”
His chair fell backward as he shrieked.
“Kyaaah! Your Highness!”
Wow. How many screams had I heard today already?
People rushed over to the prince, now collapsed on the ground.
Even in the commotion, Armel’s maid’s scream stood out like a blaring siren. Her voice could probably wake the dead—or at least snap someone out of unconsciousness.
“…Ugh.”
Gone was the cold, composed demeanor. Now he was trembling like a baby deer looking for its mother.
Out of consideration for his mental state, I decided to back off and hide.
“Here, Your Highness…”
Armel, concerned, gently placed a blanket over the trembling boy.
He scrunched his face but accepted it anyway.
What kind of brat accepts kindness with a look like that?
The boy glanced around, perhaps still trying to find me.
“Did no one else see that? The thing with the translucent hands and feet!”
Despite his protests, everyone just shook their heads.
He exhaled shakily, then pulled himself together.
“That will be all for today. You may leave.”
As the prince walked away, Armel glanced back repeatedly, looking disappointed.
Which one should I follow?
‘Gotta be the prince, obviously.’
Putting on a show to get Armel and her crew to notice me had drained my energy more than I’d expected.
With a big sigh, I followed the prince’s small, still-shaking back along with the servants.
But something felt off.
‘Why isn’t anyone asking the prince if he’s okay?’
That’s when I heard someone giggle. One servant covered her mouth while another nudged her, scolding playfully.
The prince didn’t seem to notice and kept moving, eventually entering a room across the vast castle.
Once alone, he slumped down against the door and sank to the floor.
“I saw it. I know I saw it…”
He curled up, hugging his knees as he muttered miserably.
‘What… exactly am I watching here?’
Was I mistaken about which novel I’d ended up in?
After a while, he finally stood—his legs wobbling like a newborn fawn.
‘He’s going to fall—’
And just as I thought that, he pitched forward, headfirst.
“Whoa, careful!”
Ugh, my nosy instincts.
Thankfully, he rolled his body mid-fall and softened the impact.
“A-Ah! It’s the thing I saw earlier!”
With his mouth wide open, he pointed at me like he was trying to stab the air.
“Okay, okay, calm down and listen to me, Your Highness.”
“Uuuuh…”
“I’m not here to hurt you or anything.”
“Aaah…”
We were definitely not having a conversation.
Honestly, I’d be terrified too if some random ghost started talking to me.
To show I meant no harm, I raised my hands in surrender. His finger, still aimed at me like a gun, stayed up.
“Try this: inhale, exhale.”
Hee, hee, hoo.
The prince clearly didn’t understand what was going on, but he mimicked me anyway.
Hee, hee, hoo.
I had no idea if that was the right way to breathe, but it worked.
“Good. Now slowly lower that finger.”
Like he was hypnotized, he slowly retracted his hand.
“Good boy.”
I wanted to pat his head, but if I did, this tiny royal might faint again.
So I waited patiently, like taming a skittish kitten.
“W-Who… what are you?”
He bit his lip midway through speaking—probably bit his tongue.
“Oww…”
‘Is this really the male lead I read about?’
Where were the stoic, aloof, and cold-hearted traits?
All I saw was a trembling, pitiful little kid.
Was this the tragic past of the future jerk I loathed?
I’d been dying to know his past—but not like this.
‘Why did he have to be the only one who can see me?!’
Tears welled up in the boy’s eyes, sparkling like shattered gemstones in the light.
‘No, it’s not his fault.’
A thought struck me like lightning.
‘Gasp!’
Was this the scheme of whoever threw me into this story? A plot to make me sympathize with this small, fragile male lead?
And look—it was working. I was already losing my hatred for the future jerk…
“You’ve been asked a question! Answer me!”
Never mind.
“Shouldn’t you introduce yourself first? That’s proper etiquette.”
“I-I am the prince of this empire! Show some respect! How dare you mock me!”
The boy screeched like he was about to foam at the mouth.
“You filthy thing!”
“You started it, brat.”
No way I was going easy on this rude little punk.
“Hey, check this out.”
I lifted my feet off the ground and showed off some ghostly flair. With transparent limbs, I did a little tap dance, flaunting my phantom moves.
“H-HRRRGHH!”
He made a weird choking sound and collapsed onto the floor.
“Uh…?”
He didn’t respond.
‘Crap.’
Weren’t his keywords supposed to be stoic, aloof, cold, and regretful?
Keyword revoked. Hand them over.
