Erika: My Friend Is Obsessed with Me
Chapter 2
Chapter 2
Erica – When a Friend Grows Obsessive
Across the vast lands of the Empire lay countless fiefs.
Even laid out across a massive table, a map of the Empire could scarcely mark them all.
Such was the boundless expanse of the realm that had ruled the continent for a millennium, and equally limitless were the estates of its nobility.
Powerful lords commanded their own knight orders and private armies.
Clashes between rival orders to flaunt martial might were a frequent occurrence.
Some knight orders earned renown through countless victories, while others hired mercenaries to wage bloody vendettas in their lord’s name.
Yet such skirmishes were confined strictly to the provinces.
In Syiad, the glorious capital of the Empire.
In the Imperial Capital, no one dared dream of such reckless displays.
“Head Butler, Head Butler. Are those gentlemen truly all from ‘Tenearha’?”
“Indeed. His Excellency Marquis Nokbel has arrived as well, so ensure your service is flawless.”
Tenearha—the knight order sworn to the Imperial Family.
It was the ultimate martial assembly, gathering the Empire’s greatest swordsmen under one banner.
Even a child in the slums knew their name, and even the frailest elder could never forget their glory and majesty.
The sword and shield that had defended the Empire’s ruling line for a thousand years.
No matter how illustrious a provincial knight order might be, it could never hope to reach the heels of Tenearha’s renown.
“I greet the guardians of Syiad, the knights of Tenearha.”
Countess Herace offered a polite curtsy.
Never before had she seen so many Tenearha knights gathered in one place, and she momentarily wondered if such an assembly was permissible outside an official state function, but fortunately, she did not lose her composure.
Her husband, Count Herace, was himself a knight of Tenearha.
Moreover, every guest standing before her was a face she already knew personally.
“It has been quite some time, Countess. You have grown even more radiant.”
“You flatter me, Your Excellency Marquis Nokbel.”
Her bearing as she welcomed the guests before the grand manor of the count was impeccably courteous.
Her voluminous gown looked remarkably resplendent for something donned in such haste.
“I know this is an imposition, yet here we are. Did Count Herace happen to give you any prior notice?”
“Ah… about that…”
“I knew it! If we hadn’t come dragging him out like this, he wouldn’t have shown his face all day! On my birthday, of all days, that bastard!”
“Pechenik. Restrain that crude tongue of yours. Have you no consideration for the Countess’s predicament?”
“Ah, forgive me, Countess. Count Herace has a terrible habit of breaking his promises to me. May we wait inside for a bit?”
“Oh, of course. While I did not expect such a sudden visit, we always look forward to welcoming you. The Count should return shortly.”
“The Countess is truly as gracious as ever. I simply cannot fathom why Count Herace refuses to come home.”
“Hoho, as you know, he cares for nothing but his duties… Having someone as open and familiar as you, Sir Pechenik, gives me great peace of mind. Please, come right in.”
A boisterous group of eight Tenearha knights made their way into the count’s residence.
Had they been clad in their official uniforms, anyone might have thought a catastrophe had struck the estate, but thankfully, they had possessed the sense to arrive in civilian attire.
Among them, Pechenik, dressed in exceedingly casual clothes, was undeniably a high-ranking noble—and today was his birthday.
“Count Herace will surely remember. He made a solemn promise that we would hold Pechenik’s birthday party here tonight.”
“Oh, Sir Pechenik’s birthday party… How did our manor come to host it…?”
“Bwahaha! Well, you see, the 1st Division had this little wager going, and…”
Pechenik chuckled heartily as he walked.
Then, quite by chance, his gaze drifted upward.
To a window perched impossibly high, like an attic.
There, pressed right against the glass, he caught sight of a tiny girl.
‘…?’
He felt their eyes meet.
Though she was far away, no bigger than a small speck, Pechenik’s sharp vision could distinctly make out the tears clinging to her wide eyes.
A full-blown drinking party was underway.
Any shred of dignity and elegance befitting the revered Tenearha had been tossed entirely to the dogs; the sight was beyond belief.
Returning home late after finally wrapping up his duties, Count Herace was struck utterly speechless.
He could only stare in blank dismay as his historic manor was overrun by drunken louts.
“How could…!”
Just as he was about to shout, the words stuck in his throat. He lowered his voice, struggling to compose himself.
“Knights sworn to protect the Imperial Family, completely dead drunk en masse! Does this make any shred of sense?!”
“Neener-neener! I swapped all the shifts so everyone could come! This is how you abuse authority! Bwahaha!”
“Pechenik!”
“Aye, that is I, Pechenik! The birthday boy himself! You do know that under imperial law, any wish made by the birthday celebrant must be granted?”
“Hmm, was there ever such a law?”
“Your Excellency Nokbel, are you a fool?! I made it up just now! Bwahaha! Fool, absolute fool!”
“What in the world is wrong with you…”
Of all people, today had to be that fool’s birthday.
Count Herace pressed a hand to his brow and let out a heavy sigh.
Even Marquis Nokbel was playing right along with the idiot’s antics.
The only saving grace was that nobody outside this room knew the esteemed Tenearha’s discipline had fallen into such utter disarray.
“My dear, I apologize for the trouble, but please prepare their lodgings. It is nearly midnight; sending them away will be out of the question.”
“Yes…”
“Ehh? We’re just getting started—what’s this about sleep? Who’s going to bed?”
“Who dares speak of sleep? Since when did Tenearha harbor such weaklings?”
“Submit your resignation immediately and spit back every copper of your stipend!”
“Your Excellency, surely we can spare anyone who can down this entire keg in one go?”
“I’ll take that challenge!”
“Weren’t you the one refusing to go to bed anyway?”
“Where’s the fun in sipping like a miserable wretch?! A real man drinks by the bucketload!”
“Honestly… a pack of madmen. I’d die of shame if anyone saw this. I am excusing myself.”
Wiping a tired hand over his face, Count Herace finally turned to leave.
And his retreating figure was caught instantly. Right in the sights of today’s guest of honor.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
Pechenik sprang to his feet.
Tucking a liquor bottle under each arm, he gave chase.
Count Herace, notorious even within Heavenly Emperor’s Castle for being an incurable workaholic, needed to learn how to get thoroughly hammered just like him tonight.
“Hey! Where are you hiding?!”
His movements were swift and precise, entirely worthy of an imperial palace knight. From his steps alone, one could never tell he was drunk.
Pitter-patter!
Pechenik roamed freely through the sprawling manor.
Being the birthday boy gave him all the boldness he needed.
Having lost his wife and daughter in his youth, he had lived without family for over a decade now.
His fellow knights were the only ones left to celebrate his birthday, so it was only right that they drink with him until the break of dawn.
Even the stiff, thoroughly humorless Count Herace was no exception.
Drawn by the loud, lively commotion, Erica crept downstairs to take a peek.
Tiptoeing softly, she peeked out.
There were so many people.
They were all large, grown men, most of them middle-aged, around her father’s age.
Hiding behind the staircase, the little girl counted them carefully.
‘One, two, three, four…’
By a rough guess, there had to be at least ten. Each of them was shouting at the top of his lungs and gulping down alcohol.
Their voices were so thunderous that Erica kept flinching. She almost gave away her hiding spot with a startled hiccup.
‘I should leave before they catch me and get mad.’
Quietly, clutching her teddy bear tightly to her chest, Erica crawled away.
Tucked inside her stained pocket were an egg tart and a small candle.
Her tiny frame made its way toward the garden.
‘I have to blow out the candle before midnight.’
The night air felt cool and refreshing.
Erica sat down on the edge of the garden fountain. Her pale, thin legs dangled happily in the breeze.
She set the egg tart on her lap. Fortunately, aside from a few crumbled edges, its plump shape remained intact.
She planted the little candle into it, lit the wick, clasped her hands together, and closed her eyes.
Now it was time to make her birthday wish.
Just as her lips parted—
Whoosh!
“…?!”
The flame went out.
Pechenik, dashing past, had swooped in and blown the candle out in a flash.
