Erika: My Friend Is Obsessed with Me
Chapter 41
“Cough, gasp, haah…!”
A hand clutching desperately at his chest.
A face contorted in agony.
Labored, rattling gasps drawn in ragged hyperventilation.
His entire body was drenched in sweat, his clothes hopelessly rumpled.
The dark red blood spattered across the floor seethed.
Hielia, pouring out divine power to the point of blinding brilliance, was already in tears.
“……”
Erica froze where she stood.
This had to be a dream.
Or at the very least, an illusion born of madness.
Erica stared blankly into empty space, her eyes unfocused.
Sitting on the sofa, she did not move an inch.
Hielia brought out tea. Even the clatter of the teacup setting down on the table elicited no response.
“……”
Snap. Abruptly, her head turned.
Her eyes took in Pechenik, lying on the wide bed.
She strained her hearing to the utmost, confirming his faint, soft breathing.
“……”
Pechenik had fallen asleep, drunk on divine power. It was practically no different from passing out.
“It acts as a sort of anesthetic. A sleeping draught, as well.”
Erica slowly turned her head to look at Hielia.
“Only by pouring in high-purity divine power does he barely manage to lose consciousness and sleep. The light of healing has no effect on him at all.”
“……”
“That is why Pechenik cannot leave the temple. I am the only one who can continuously provide divine power of this magnitude.”
“……”
Erica looked quietly down at the teacup.
Ancient ruins?
Some kind of curse?
She had heard the entire story from Hielia, yet none of it felt real.
Because there was no way it could be real.
Yet her heart sank endlessly into the depths.
Beyond empty, Erica’s unfocused eyes plunged into sheer darkness.
“……Saintess.”
Her voice sounded the same.
“……It’s my fault.”
Uttering the words flatly as they surfaced, she swallowed a wet breath.
She did not know what she had done wrong, but surely she had failed somewhere.
That had to be why God was striking her with divine retribution.
“I’m so sorry. I’ll do whatever you tell me to do.”
Erica begged for forgiveness.
Because she was the beautiful, kind, and benevolent Saintess, perhaps she would bestow some mercy.
“Please…… save my master.”
You’re his friend. You’re the Saintess.
Erica pleaded in a small voice.
Desperate to reach her heart, she fretted with every fiber of her being.
Meeting her gaze, Hielia remained silent for a long time.
“……”
She pondered deeply, over and over.
Though she was unsure whether it was right to confide in his disciple without Pechenik’s permission—
“……It is not completely without a way.”
Soon, she parted her lips softly.
Hielia knew of a single method.
“However……. Your master refuses to bend his stubbornness.”
Pechenik knew the method as well.
The problem was that it was a path Pechenik refused to take.
“Would you please help me persuade him?”
Marquis Nokbel held immense authority as a member of the Tenearha.
Though he was not the Commander, his practical power surpassed even that of the Commander.
He hailed from a prestigious marquisate, renowned among elite families for producing high-ranking officials for generations.
He himself possessed both scholarly and martial prowess, coupled with immense public trust.
The Emperor trusted him enough to offer him leadership of the Tenearha, but he had declined multiple times.
Nokbel believed that so long as he was involved in central aristocratic politics, he should not take up the position of Knight Commander.
Instead, he had petitioned for his retirement from the knight order.
Yet the Imperial Family refused to permit his retirement under any circumstances.
Even when he held a pen instead of a sword, he could never take off the Tenearha uniform.
‘Exhausting.’
Occasionally, he was reminded of a comrade who had retired to the countryside long ago.
About ten years ago, was it?
Pechenik, who had submitted his resignation from the Tenearha.
As Pechenik was a cherished junior, Marquis Nokbel had been considerably taken aback.
Looking back, the catalyst for it all had surely been Pechenik’s birthday.
When they had all playfully barged into Count Herace’s estate to drink, he had seemed cheerful enough.
‘……Something must have happened that day.’
From that day on, Pechenik wore an empty look, and then abruptly tendered his resignation.
Naturally, there was no way it would be accepted.
Though not quite as obsessive as now, even back then His Majesty the Emperor held Swordmasters in high esteem.
His Majesty’s permission was not easily granted.
Yet Pechenik did not give up.
The following year, they held Pechenik’s birthday party at Count Herace’s estate again, and Pechenik petitioned for retirement even more tenaciously.
In the end, His Majesty, wearing a displeased expression, permitted Pechenik to retire to the countryside.
The day the Contract of Kinship was terminated.
On the day he finally cast off the glorious uniform of the Tenearha.
Pechenik had smiled so brightly. He looked utterly unburdened.
‘……I can only say he was lucky back then.’
It would be impossible nowadays.
The idea of the Tenearha breaking a Contract of Kinship was unimaginable.
His Majesty the Emperor no longer let go of any Swordmaster he had once obtained.
Across the entire Empire, there was a drought of Swordmasters.
Over the past decade, the newly emerged Swordmasters were so few they could be counted on one hand.
The supply had practically dried up. It was an unprecedented occurrence in history.
The Imperial Family had long been famous as collectors of Swordmasters, but recently, that obsession had reached an extreme degree.
As a result, the usually dignified Imperial Family could not help but lose their composure.
“Is Pechenik with her?”
“No. We confirmed that the Saintess is heading to the reception room accompanied only by a commoner woman.”
Having located the runaway Swordmaster—and one of the continent’s foremost fighters at that—
His Majesty the Emperor fully intended to put him back in his place by any means necessary.
“To find it so difficult even to catch a glimpse of the Saintess or Pechenik…… I truly have no face to return to His Majesty.”
“Do you intend to wait in front of the reception room to meet the Saintess?”
“I know full well that it is ill-mannered…… but there is no helping it.”
Marquis Nokbel adjusted his attire as he walked.
He had requested an audience countless times, but all had been rejected.
What each party wanted was clear, so he could not fathom why negotiations kept breaking down.
“I do not know why they need the Holy Grail so desperately, but if they desire a sacred relic of that caliber, one would expect them to take a step back.”
“What if the Saintess attempts to negotiate with different terms?”
“Unless it is Pechenik’s return, His Majesty the Emperor has no intention whatsoever of surrendering the Holy Grail.”
There were four Tenearha members heading to the reception room.
Even within the Tenearha, there was hierarchy.
Two lower-ranking knights followed behind to assist the two senior knights walking ahead.
The two most authoritative knights within the Tenearha.
“……We would welcome Pechenik’s return as well, but the man simply refuses to bend his stubbornness.”
Marquis Nokbel.
“……When he refuses returning to the Tenearha so vehemently, will he truly change his mind?”
And Count Herace.
“Since he is staying at the Great Temple of Light, we must persuade the Saintess first, by whatever means necessary.”
“……”
“In exchange for handing over the Holy Grail of Magreta.”
The antique corridor stretched on.
As they walked toward the reception room, silence fell between them once more.
“The Holy Grail of Magreta?”
It was the first time Erica had ever heard of it in her life.
The reception room they had moved to was lavishly decorated, but she had no mind to spare for the interior.
She watched only the movement of Hielia’s lips, waiting solely for her reply.
“It is one of the treasures of the Imperial Family.”
The Imperial Family of the Empire possessed many special artifacts.
Every single one was precious, mystical, and one of a kind in the world.
They were spoils gathered over more than a thousand years of conquering the vast continent.
Among them were sacred relics plundered seven hundred years ago after subjugating the Great Temple of Light.
“In the ancient past, it belonged to the Temple…… but it has long since become something we can no longer claim ownership over.”
A chalice imbued with the power of the first Saintess.
The Holy Grail of Magreta.
Legend held that within the sealed chalice lay not liquid, but light.
Yet no one had seen it with their own eyes, for it had entered the imperial treasury over seven hundred years ago.
“It is said that keeping it close will gradually neutralize all curses.”
