Erika: My Friend Is Obsessed with Me
Chapter 38
The Saintess gently extended the back of her hand to Erica.
It was a hand as clean and lovely as snow, without a single blemish.
Devoid of scars or calluses altogether.
“If your words of slaying the monarch of the Illusionary Forest are true, you shall surely be an honored guest of the Temple.”
“…….”
“Offer your oath of courtesy before the representative of God.”
An oath of courtesy.
Erica searched her memory for what that meant. Her master had mentioned it to her long ago.
Erica dropped to one knee.
She gently took the Saintess’s offered hand, as if handling fragile glassware.
“What reward do you seek in ascending to the upper tier?”
“None, Saintess.”
The Saintess was undeniably well-disposed toward her. Now was the time to speak.
“I didn’t come here seeking a reward. Defeating the Basilisk was merely a coincidence.”
Erica respectfully placed a kiss upon the back of her hand.
“Then what is it?”
“……Pechenik Ripelsiyan.”
The Saintess Hielia’s fingertips flinched.
Erica raised her head.
“I’ve come looking for my master.”
When she saw Hielia’s eyes widen.
“If he is here, could you please allow me to meet him?”
Erica knew by instinct.
Their long game of tag had finally come to an end.
How many years had it been?
It started when they settled in Dangtus, the large metropolis of the south.
After taking the position of Mercenary Guild Master, Pechenik often set out on solo adventures.
Though he used to take Erica along most of the time, ever since his disciple became an S-rank mercenary, he had supported her independence.
Pechenik had a severe case of wanderlust. He could never stay in one place for long.
He often vanished on a whim, but he always returned just as quickly.
So Erica never worried when her master disappeared, and—
“……He is over there in the Sky Garden.”
Even if this was the longest they had ever been apart, she hadn’t expected to feel overwhelmed.
Or so she had thought.
“……Master.”
Was it really because it had been so long?
Or was it because she was still shaken from encountering her biological father, Count Herace, on the lower floors of the Temple?
“Master!”
Tears welled up unbidden.
In the Sky Garden under the radiant glow of the setting sun, surrounded by such utterly peaceful scenery.
Seeing Pechenik turn around, his eyes popping wide with shock.
This old geezer! Seriously!
Her lips trembled as she sprinted at full speed.
“What are you doing here, honestly?!”
She leaped up, kicking up a gust of wind.
She hurled herself into Pechenik’s arms, making him stagger back slightly.
“Oof, Erica!”
Even though she tackled him with all her weight like a physical assault, a broad grin bloomed across Pechenik’s face.
It was a familiar motion, like scooping up a small child.
He supported her under the thighs and hoisted her securely with an easy heave.
When their eyes met up close, Erica broke into a wide smile.
“Master, Master! I—”
Even as she smiled, the rims of her eyes flushed red. Tears pooled at the corners of her eyes.
“I—!”
I became a Swordmaster.
The very first words she had wanted to tell him the moment she saw him refused to leave her mouth.
Instead, tears kept overwhelming her.
Before long, she was outright sobbing, wailing like a child.
All the pent-up childish vulnerability came spilling out.
“Erica. How on earth did you find this place?”
Pechenik patted her on the back.
At his gentle touch, even more tears welled up. Once the floodgates opened, she couldn’t stop.
“Master, Masterrr…”
Tears dripped down, soaking Pechenik’s shoulder.
Before the snot could follow, Erica drew the sword at her waist.
“Look, take a look at this.”
A brilliant blue radiance illuminated their faces.
“Guess what this is?”
Erica asked, curving her tear-glistening eyes into an arc.
Pechenik mirrored her expression.
“Well, is it a duck?”
“No, it’s Aura!”
Erica burst into laughter. A wide smile spread across Pechenik’s face.
“Congratulations. When did you go and become a Swordmaster?!”
He set Erica down and gave her a tight embrace.
Anyone watching would have thought they were reuniting after decades apart; the master-disciple reunion was quite a sight.
Then, Pechenik turned his head.
Looking at the young man standing blankly beside them—or more accurately, resting his weight on one leg with arms crossed in an utterly insolent posture.
“Who is that?”
Pechenik asked.
Here it comes! There had been times she dreaded this very moment, but not anymore.
Now that she herself was a Swordmaster, she had nothing to feel timid about.
“He’s a friend. His name is Chaud. An S-rank mercenary. We met during a Wyvern commission in Lygis.”
“…….”
“Ah, he’s a Swordmaster too. He’s the same age as me, amazing, right?”
Pechenik locked eyes with Chaud for a long moment.
“…….”
“…….”
“……?”
The silence dragged on long enough that Erica tilted her head in confusion.
“Erica.”
“Yes!”
“Didn’t I tell you not to hang around ugly kids?”
“……Excuse me?”
Was he really talking about Chaud? Erica’s eyes wavered in utter confusion.
No matter how harshly one judged him, Chaud was far from ugly.
Master, are your eyes crooked? She was about to retort, but thought better of it.
“He’s a good kid.”
Though he was annoying at times, Chaud wasn’t a bad person, so she could say that much with confidence.
“……A good kid, you say.”
Her master’s gaze remained fixed on Chaud.
Chaud and Pechenik glared at each other as if in a staring contest.
Erica failed to notice the subtle battle of nerves between them.
She simply couldn’t fathom why they were staring at each other like that. At this rate, they’re going to burn holes right through each other’s faces.
“……Pechenik, I am sorry to interrupt, but…”
Just then, the Saintess approached.
“I think it would be best to head inside now. It will get chilly soon once the sun sets.”
“Hielia. You’re probably the only person in the world who dares treat me like a weakling.”
Pechenik smiled playfully. It was a clear signal telling her to hold her tongue.
“…….”
Hielia stared at him expressionlessly.
Then, shifting her gaze slightly, she looked at Erica.
The child Pechenik had bragged about so much. The disciple he talked about at every opportunity.
Facing Erica in person stirred a whirlwind of emotions within Hielia.
‘Pechenik’s condition…’
Every time she saw Pechenik smiling nonchalantly while his body was utterly wrecked on the inside.
‘……Is it truly right to keep this from the disciple he cherishes so much?’
Hielia felt a sense of helplessness.
What good was being the Saintess, a symbol of wisdom, when she couldn’t even discern the right decision at a time like this?
What was the point of possessing exceptional Divine Power when she couldn’t heal even a single curse brought by her longtime friend?
Though she mocked herself internally, none of it showed on the surface.
“Pechenik.”
The Saintess Hielia was the figure representing the Great Temple of Light.
For that reason, she never formed private connections.
She knew all too well that friendship with the Saintess equated to power, and petitions made to the Saintess could easily ignite political strife.
Yet to one person—Pechenik, who had saved her life when they were young—she had given her affection.
The token of her sentiment was the Life Stone. Known by another name, the Temple Return Stone.
An item specially bestowed only in cases of profound, unpayable debts of gratitude, permanently infused with a portion of the Saintess’s Divine Power.
She had hoped he would treasure it. She had never given it to him expecting him to actually use it.
That was why that day had been a catastrophe for her as well.
When Pechenik shattered the Life Stone and appeared in the upper tier, Hielia did not set foot in the prayer room for three whole days for the first time in her life.
All to stay by his unconscious side, day and night without rest.
Even after Pechenik awoke, she spent several more days weighed down by sorrow after hearing what had transpired in the Ancient Ruins.
An ancient curse that not even the Saintess could undo.
“It would be better to continue your reunion with your disciple inside.”
“It’s not that cold.”
“……Go inside. In the Temple, my word is law.”
Pechenik’s strength was failing him.
He couldn’t even sleep due to the agony that erratically ripped through his body.
The area near his heart was bruised pitch-black, and he had described it as feeling as though it were bound in chains and being crushed.
He calmly referred to it as the price for trespassing upon the resting place of God.
Tearing at the heart of anyone watching, spoken in a voice that sounded as if nothing were wrong at all.
