Erica - When a Friend is Obsessed With Me

Chapter 1

T/N: Do not vote on any chapters unless you want this story to be taken down.
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Erica realized it at the tender age of four.

Within the vast mansion, she had no one on her side.

Even when scolded by the countess and crouching in her room, there was no one to comfort Erica.

'It hurts...'

Not even the servants or maids came to her.

There was no senior servant who cared enough to embrace the despised illegitimate child.

Everyone was wary of the Countess's watchful eye.

Young Erica confused blood and tears.

Weren't they the same? Both were hot and painful.

Whenever she faced the Countess, blood and tears flowed simultaneously.

When blood appeared, she wiped it away with her small hands.

As tears fell drop by drop, she sat by the window, letting them flow without knowing a single word.

Her only companion in the night sky was the moon that didn't answer back.

At the age of five, she began to sense the unbearable loneliness that had originated from somewhere.

Her mother, a humble maid, had captured the count's attention, leading to Erica's birth. Tragically, her mother perished in childbirth due to complications.

The Countess held nothing but contempt for Erica.

After birthing a prosperous son, her fury ignited in the presence of Erica.

Her father, a noble knight and head of the esteemed Count of Herais, neglected his kin while safeguarding the Emperor in the imperial castle.

Erica.

Unbeknownst to Count Herias, the Countess seethed with bloodshot eyes when he carelessly bestowed a name similar to his eldest son, Eric, upon his unworthy bastard daughter. Yet, his apathy was tantamount to condoning the mistreatment.

Nevertheless, Erica found solace in the presence of a father who, unlike the Countess, harbored no animosity towards her.

Frequently, when Count Herais returned home, she'd stand by the lofty attic window, gazing down at him from afar.

She had to content herself with distant observation of her father's countenance.

His resplendent blond locks mirrored the sun, yet his demeanor remained as remote as it was beautiful.

Sadly, Erica hadn't inherited that striking blond hue.

With plain brown locks, unfitting for a noblewoman of high birth, she remained unrecognized as his progeny.

Perhaps Count Herias had consigned her to oblivion.

At six, Erica mastered the art of disregarding her solitude.

It was akin to a spell from a fairy tale, woven by a sorcerer.

"It's alright..."

It's alright. It's alright. It was the same yesterday. This isn't a significant matter. It doesn't matter at all. Okay, okay.

Whispering those words repeatedly strangely eased her mind.

"What's wrong? How long have you been watching?"

"I, I was..."

"Annoying! Will you leave?!"

The day she was caught glimpsing Eric's swordsmanship practice and severely scolded, saying those words only ten times honestly wasn't enough.