Flora cleared her throat, trying to mask her pride.
“It’s all tankst to me.” (It’s all thanks to me.)
“That’s odd. I’ve never heard of a kid like you being in the temple.”
“Ahem, ahem!”
She turned her head as if that was all she would say. The boy’s persistent stare brushed against her cheek, but she kept pretending not to notice.
“Hmmm, hmm.”
Flora went back to where she’d been, grabbed some water and a handkerchief, then returned.
“Drink some water.”
“…How do I know what’s in this? Why should I drink it?”
“Then don’ drink it, I dun care.” (Then don’t drink it, I don’t care.)
She snorted at his suspicious tone and took a sip of the water herself. After working so hard, even plain water tasted incredibly refreshing. She let out a satisfied “Ahh,” only to feel the boy’s gaze again.
But this time, it wasn’t suspicion—it was longing.
Of course he’s thirsty. With those wounds, he has to be.
Flora gave a small laugh and held the bottle out to him again.
“Wanna dwink?” (Wanna drink?)
“….”
Maybe he was embarrassed, but he nodded with a shy look on his face.
She handed him the bottle, and he eagerly began to drink.
“Dummy. What if I really was immune to poison or somethin’?” she teased, slightly annoyed by how naturally he drank it down.
“Pfft!”
The boy suddenly choked and started coughing violently.
“Cough, cough!”
“Ah!”
It had just been a joke, but now he looked like he was in real pain. She immediately felt guilty.
“Sowwy, it was just a widdle joke…” (Sorry, it was just a little joke…)
Flora gently dabbed the wet corners of his mouth with her handkerchief.
“You really are immune to poison, aren’t you…?”
“Nope! I’m just pwetty, and cute, and wovewy—but a normal kid.” (Nope! I’m just pretty, and cute, and lovely—but a normal kid.)
“You say that about yourself so shamelessly…”
“Do you disagree?” she asked, tilting her head.
When she softly squinted her eyes and curved her lips into a smile, the boy’s gaze went hazy, and his cheeks began to turn bright red.
She even threw in a playful wink, and his face practically burst into flames. As expected, no one could resist the expression all the kids at the orphanage adored.
Flora giggled, and the boy, flustered, snatched the handkerchief from her and turned away.
Not that it helped. The redness of his ears gave him away.
As he wiped his own mouth, Flora asked again.
“So, how’d you get hurt?”
“…I was attacked by a monster.”
“Just looking at the wounds, I figured that much. But that’s odd. Monsters don’t usually show up around here.”
Despite being near the demon forest, the town Flora lived in had strong defenses. It was thanks to Rosaria, the cherished lady of House Hermannus that they rarely suffered monster attacks.
At her words, the boy gave a bitter smile.
“Maybe I’m cursed. Bad luck just seems to follow me.”
“Huh?”
“I don’t really know. I was chased, I got hurt, and then I passed out.”
He clearly didn’t want to say more, so Flora nodded, no longer particularly curious.
“I should get going.”
He returned the empty bottle and stood up.
“Already?”
“I have to leave the territory before nightfall.”
“Oh, I see.”
She’d thought she wanted to be alone, and even found him a bit annoying at first—but now that he was about to leave, a wave of reluctance hit her.
Flora stood up with a gloomy face.
“What’s your name?”
“I dun give my nyame to ungwatefuw peopwe who weave wight aftew bein’ shaved.” (I don’t give my name to ungrateful people who leave right after being saved.)
“…What if I pay you back?”
“You said you’d leave today. How would you pay me back?”
“This might not be the last time we meet. I’ll come find you again. Isn’t that enough?”
“I dun bewieve in hoomans’ pwomishes.” (I don’t believe in human promises.)
“Oh, come on.”
The boy let out a dry chuckle, then, after a moment of hesitation, held out his pinky finger.
“What’s that?”
“A pinky promise.”
Apparently, the boy had a surprisingly pure side.
“You don’t know what a pinky promise is?”
“I knyow. I jus’ didn’t think you’d do it.” (I know. I just didn’t expect it from you.)
Flora reluctantly raised her own pinky.
Was she doing this because she believed in promises?
No, not at all.
She was just trying to protect the innocent sincerity in the boy’s expression as he made such a childish gesture.
Ugh.
If only I’d left the orphanage when I was even younger… maybe I wouldn’t have gotten soft like this.
There goes my Archdemon dignity.
Grumbling internally, Flora hooked her pinky around his and gave it a firm shake up and down.
“Now that I think about it, you’wa the one who hasta keep da pwomise. Shouldn’t you teww me youw name fiwst?” (Now that I think about it, you’re the one who has to keep the promise. Shouldn’t you tell me your name first?)
At that, the boy hesitated, then declared his name with a determined expression.
“…My name is Basilion.”
He glanced at her, clearly waiting for a reaction. Flora, just like she did with the other kids, gave him a soft compliment.
“Okay, thas a coow name.” (Okay, that’s a cool name.)
“T-that’s it?”
“What, you want more?”
“N-no! No, it’s fine!”
Basilion nodded furiously and quickly added, “Thanks… I won’t forget this promise.”
“Owkay, Basilion. Make sure ya keep it. My name’s—” (Okay, Basilion. Make sure you keep it. My name’s—)
But he didn’t let go of her finger and cut her off.
“Tell me next time.”
“Huh?”
“Next time we meet, tell me then. I’m definitely coming back.”
With that, he released her hand.
Their linked pinkies slowly came apart.
At the same time, a cool mountain breeze swept between them.
When a gust of wind blew leaves into her eyes, she lowered her head, shielding them with her arms—and then looked up again.
“…What? Where’d he go?”
Basilion had vanished without a trace.
Is this what it feels like to be haunted by a ghost?
A chill crept up her spine.
“He-he’s not a ghost. Probabwy.” (He’s not a ghost. Probably.)
Unfortunately, she suddenly remembered what Rian had said a week ago—about a scary ghost deep in the mountain that eats disobedient children.
Sniffling, she glanced down at the empty bottle in her hand.
“L-let’s go back.”
She definitely needed to head back to the orphanage.
It wasn’t because she was scared.
There was no way an Archdemon would be afraid of ghosts.
…She just needed to go back. Quickly.
***
When Flora came down from the mountain, she noticed something strange—there was an unusual commotion around the orphanage.
“What’s going on?”
With protective magic cast over the place, it was normally impossible for anything this noisy to happen at the orphanage.
