The Crown Prince Thinks I'm a Guy

A Ghost and an Old Man

My worst fears have come true.

It seems like I was back to the time when I was 18, desperate for escape. However, even though the exit from this hellish place was only a few steps away, I couldn't pass through. I couldn't escape.

I've tried escaping twice in my past life. Now, I am at my third try. Will it fail as well? The old records always hinted that third try's the charm, but why isn't anything going according to plan?

The moment I had miscalculated the time it would take to open the portrait/secret door in my bedroom, I grew conscious of the fact that our plan wasn't exactly well made. A few disturbances can easily destroy it.

Now, with Miss Hestia still not arriving with her orange cloak, I wondered if I should try leaving the city on my own.

But, deep down, I knew it could easily become just like my past. I could be suspected as a child slave who has tried to break from her chains. I could even be already searched for by the palace guards, despite my prediction that they would only know of my absence by the dawn.

I cursed silently, gripping the cup of ale I had ordered which I hadn't and wouldn't dare take a sip of. Who knows what alcohol could do to a young body?

The number of people around the restaurant started dwindling one by one. When only three tables were still occupied, I knew I had to leave now or I would definitely call the attention of the inn owners if I hadn't already.

Blinking back the frustrated tears on my eyes, I got up silently to make my way out of the inn. At the door, I had bumped on the shoulders of a tiny woman, almost as short as me. Her height simply took me aback, making me freeze on my path.

Not long after, I had finally realized why my gut has been screaming at me to run away.

In front of me wasn't a tiny woman. She was a young girl. Thin and wispy, probably not even ten.

"Impossible," I heard myself muttering as I backed away from the door, staring at the girl like she was a ghost.

Because, she probably was. After all, I should only meet her like this by the time I was 13. Thirteen and dressed like merchant boy. A merchant boy that would hit her across the face.

I backed even further away, almost upturning an empty table in my panic.

'Was she finally here to take revenge?'

The ghost held up a sleeved hand, maybe to calm me down, or maybe so she could choke my neck.

Then, seeing my frozen body, she slowly brought a finger to her lips, almost as though to silence me. I couldn't do anything. I was silent as the dead, anyway.

I wondered how a decently magic-filled six year old could possibly defeat ghosts, but I managed to straighten myself up. I forced myself to gather notes into my body, ready to spring into action if need be.

"Elle?" the ghost whispered. "You are Eleftheria, right?"

I knew she said it softly enough that only I could hear her, but having my name uttered in the open made me even more anxious than I already was. The ghost knew my name, and she could easily use it to her advantage.

Knowing I had no choice, I nodded at her question. She curtly nodded back in reply, and then gestured for me to follow her out of the inn.

Driven mostly by curiosity and fear, I kept my hood low over my face as I traced the path created by the ghost. Like I was in a state of hypnosis, I followed the ghost, and I never would have stopped even if we had ventured straight into the fields of asfodel. I swallowed down the guilt that trickled slimily down my throat. If I could see through this ghost's orange hood, could I perhaps see a bruising welt on her sunken cheek?