Erica realized it when she was just four years old. That in this vast Count’s manor, there was no one on her side. Even when she was scolded by the Countess and curled up crying in her room, there was no one to comfort Erica. It hurts… Not even the nanny or the maids came to her. There were no servants brave enough to embrace the hated illegitimate child. Everyone watched the Countess’s reactions. The young Erica confused blood with tears. Weren’t they the same? Both were hot and painful. Every time she faced the Countess, the two flowed simultaneously. When blood came, she wiped it away with her small hand. The tears that fell, drip by drip, she let flow while sitting by the window, not understanding why. Her only friend was the unresponsive moon in the night sky. At five years old, she overheard where this piercing loneliness began. It was because her mother, a lowly maid, had conceived the Count’s seed and died in childbirth while giving birth to her. The Countess despised Erica. After giving birth to a proper son, she raged daily at Erica’s existence, which appeared like a calamity. Her father was the Family Head of the long-established Count Hereisy and an upright knight, but he stayed at the Imperial Castle to protect His Majesty the Emperor and did not look after the family. Erica. The Count had thoughtlessly given a name similar to his firstborn son, Eri,,c, to his lowborn illegitimate daughter, causing the Countess to be enraged to the point of bursting blood vessels in her eyes, but Count Hereis didn’t know about it. However, his indifference was no different from condoning the abuse. Erica still positively recognized the existence of her father, who, unlike the Countess, did not hate her. Whenever Count Hereis returned home, she would stand by the window of the high attic room and look down at him. She had to watch her father’s face from afar. If she dared to approach her father, she would have to endure severe beatings from the Countess after he left. Count Hereis’s beautiful golden hair was like the sun, and just as distant. Unfortunately, Erica did not inherit that brilliant golden hair. She was born with ordinary brown hair, unbecoming of a high noble. Was that why she wasn’t acknowledged as a daughter? Perhaps Count Hereis had forgotten about his daughter’s existence. At six years old, Erica learned how to forget her loneliness. It was like a magician’s spell from a fairy tale. “It’s okay…” It’s okay. It’s okay. It was the same yesterday. This much is fine. This is nothing. Strangely, after muttering “It’s okay” ten times, her heart would feel much lighter. “What? How long have you been spying?” “I, I…” “How annoying! Won’t you go away?!” On the day she was severely scolded for secretly watching Eric practice swordsmanship, honestly, ten times wasn’t enough. “…It’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay…. It’s over now, it’s okay…” Her body was covered in wounds. She sweated as if suffering from a fever due to the shock. Even her eyelashes were damp as if wet with raindrops. Erica curled up under the bed, endlessly comforting herself by muttering “It’s okay, it’s okay” hundreds of times. And she endured. If she kept telling herself it was okay, it soon became okay. It was a self-imposed oblivion. Erica’s memories from before she turned seven were, in fact, not entirely intact. It was on her seventh birthday. In truth, no one celebrated Erica’s birthday, so she didn’t know her real birthday. It was just a secret birthday that Erica had arbitrarily decided on since last year. A summer day when the weather was exceptionally nice. Of course, there was no grand party like on Eric’s birthday, nor were there mountains of gifts piled up. But there was something she had learned by watching in secret. She could manage to get a small candle, stick it in bread, and blow out the candle on her own. Last year, when she made a wish for the first time, “Please let Eric pass the Academy entrance exam,” ly came true. After Eric left to attend the Imperial Academy, there was one less person to torment her, which was an incredible result. This year’s wish is… Erica vividly remembered that the wish she made while blowing out the birthday candle last year had been effective. So she had been waiting for today all year long. This birthday, she would make an even better wish. For this, she had obtained a small candle and even stolen a plump egg tart from the kitchen and hidden it away. Since the candle needed to be lit when it got dark, she waited for the evening to grow dim. But outside was bustling. “Hurry up!” “Geez, suddenly without any notice, what is this! Nobles are so self-centered, I tell you.” She peeked out of her room and saw maids running up and down the corridor. “Where’s the Head Maid now? Did she go to the kitchen?” “She went to the Madam. The Butler should be there too.” Something was happening. The maids were running around frantically, but no one told her what was going on. Erica stood there blankly, scratching her arm. “Oh, for goodness' sake, don’t stand in the middle of the corridor! You’re in the way, so go back inside!” A maid pushed Erica back into her room. Erica, who had stumbled into the room, let out a sigh. But that was only for a moment; soon she got up, dusting off her knees. She was used to this kind of treatment. A little while later. The sound of carriages could be heard loudly from outside the window. The clop-clop sound of hooves and the neigh of horses were welcome sounds to Erica. Has Father come? She rushed to the window. Her white forehead and small palms pressed against the window. But soon her shoulders drooped. The carriage outside wasn’t Count Hereis’s. An unfamiliar family crest. And there were several of them. “One, two, three, four… Five.” Five carriages? Erica tried to remember if she had ever seen so many carriages before. Come to think of it, she recalled many carriages arriving in succession at Eric’s birthday party. Is it Eric’s birthday party? No. Today wasn’t Eric’s birthday. Today was a different day. Though no one in this world would know except Erica— “…Today is my birthday.” It was the day Erica had decided, alone, was her birthday. “Maybe…” Erica, at just seven years old, dreamed a small dream. A thin, tiny hope, too absurd to call an expectation, so she decided to call it a ‘dream’. Could those people have come to celebrate my birthday, knowing about it? Erica hugged her faded old teddy bear tightly and buried her face in it. “…” It was to hide her embarrassed face. It was a foolish imagination. Even she found herself ridiculous. She couldn’t help it if someone came and mocked this vain thought.