Saint’s Prison Novel Chapter 29

If you plant a seed, it will sprout.

Growing larger and larger in ti.

Surely, flowers will bloom too.

That’s what I’m waiting for.

Here, always waiting.

***

Before I knew it, I had been thinking here for quite so ti.

Standing up, I stretch my neck, hearing it crack.

(Maybe I’ve overthought things, I should head back to my room for now…)

Closing the wax tablet and tying it with a string, I carry it under my arm as I walk down the corridor.

The light tapping of my footsteps on the stone floor breaks the silence.

Listening to my own steps, I move forward.

Entering my room, I place the wax tablet in the desk drawer.

There’s little furniture in the simple room: just a desk, a wardrobe, and a bed.

The walls are cold stone, and the bed has only a linen sheet and a single woolen blanket.

The nights are still a bit chilly, so honestly, it’s been a relief since Amal started sleeping with .

Sitting on the bed, I take off my shoes and lie down.

Releasing the tension in my body, I exhale deeply.

Using my brain more than usual, I feel a fatigue stronger than from physical exertion. Soon, drowsiness creeps over .

Without resisting, I gently close my eyes.

***

The creaking of the bed wakes .

Opening my eyes, I see Amal sitting on the bed, peering into my face. Her long, silver hair tickles my cheek, carrying her scent.

“…What’s up, Amal? You’re here. You should’ve woken

up sooner.”

“Andy-sama was sleeping so peacefully; I didn’t have the heart to disturb him. I was content to gaze upon your sleeping face.”

“…There’s nothing interesting about a man’s sleeping face, right?”

“No, Andy-sama. It’s the face of the man I adore. I could watch it forever.”

“Ah, is that so? Well, that’s good.”

I sit up and scratch my head. Amal’s frank adoration makes

feel embarrassed.

Hiding that embarrassnt with a smile, Amal blushes and gazes at

with moist eyes.

Then she reaches out to , but her hand freezes midway. Her hand, her body, is trembling. After a few seconds, she slowly lowers her hand and looks down.

She would usually cross her arms and cling to , or hug …

(…Maybe she’s worried because I rejected her hand that ti. She’s thinking I might do it again?)

I feel guilty. I was a bit over-sensitive too. If I could turn back ti, I would.

(I’ve always relied on Amal for so much and given back so little. I must have made her feel insecure.)

Now that I think about it, it’s always been Amal who took action. All I did was enjoy it. She took care of the als, cleaning, and various other things around . At 27 years old, I’ve left everything to a girl a full cycle younger than .

Despite all the earnest affection she shows , I’ve given nothing in return.

I smile at Amal and take her hand. Then I pull her hand toward , drawing her into my chest. With my left hand, I gently, firmly hug her.

“I won’t reject your hand again. So don’t make that face.”

“Andy-sama… Andy-sama!!!”

When I call her na, Amal cries big tears. Then, gripping the hand I’m holding, she chokes out her voice mixed with sobs.

“I, I thought I was abandoned. My mind went blank, thinking Andy-sama hated … It was so hard, so lonely! Andy-sama, Andy-sama, Andy-sama!!!”

“…I’m sorry for making you suffer, for making you feel lonely. Today, you can be as needy as you want. I’ll spoil you plenty.”

I stroke the back of the girl clinging to , crying as she calls my na so pitifully.

As I stroke Amal’s back repeatedly, I realize once again that she can’t do without . I had felt that way before, but now it really hits ho.

I rember her strong attachnt, her possessiveness.

Amal, who said she wanted to be killed if I were to leave her.

Amal, who begged to keep dreaming without being told I disliked her.

Amal, who beca furious and mad with jealousy at the thought of soone taking

away.

Amal, who even prostrated herself for forgiveness, thinking I hated her.

I close my eyes.

“…So warm,” Amal says, holding my hand as if touching a treasure.

Amal, who received a small blue flower and laughed innocently.

Her image clearly cos to mind.

Even if I could return to modern-day Japan, I know what would happen to Amal without even thinking. That’s why I can’t leave this girl alone.

The answer was already there.

What was missing was my resolve to live here with Amal.

I press the invisible final piece I hold in my hand to my heart.

—Click. The last piece fits into place.

Author’s Note : At last, the protagonist has made up his mind.

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