Pechenik laughed heartily, unaware of Erica's growing frustration as her face flushed with anger and confusion.
"You, little maid, how did you know it was my birthday and come prepared with candles? How thoughtful of you!"
"... Ugh."
Erica bit her lip; her worn, tattered clothes and disheveled hair hardly resembled those of a daughter of the Count, making her easily mistaken for a maid.
But it was impolite to blow out someone else's birthday candles.
A grown man who couldn't recognize his own age.
"It's... my birthday."
"Huh?"
However, as Erica gazed at the extinguished candle, her temper flared, and she finally spoke up.
"It's my birthday."
She wanted to convey her anger, but she wasn't accustomed to expressing herself in such a manner.
Instead, she sighed, a sigh tinged with sadness.
"This is my wish... It's my once-a-year wish."
She could almost hear the tiny, black candle mocking her. 'Silly, it's not your birthday,' it seemed to whisper, causing her eyes to well up with tears as she rubbed them with the back of her hand.
Someone else had stolen her birthday wish, leaving her unable to fulfill it.
"That's... I apologize."
Pechenik muttered, scratching his beard.
Despite his drunkenness, his comprehension remained intact.
Perhaps today was the young maid's birthday.
"Instead of birthday candles, I'll grant you a wish. I have plenty of money, so I can buy you anything you desire."
Pechenik gestured towards the old teddy bear beside the girl.
"How about a stuffed bunny, much larger and cuter than that squishy, fluffy thing?"
Erica remained silent.
Interpreting her silence as consent, Pechenik continued,
"I'll have it delivered to the Count's house first thing in the morning. Which room do you work in, the kitchen or the laundry? I'll send it directly to the head maid, and you can retrieve it."
"..."
With the egg tart in her right hand and her teddy bear in her left arm, Erica spoke up.
"I don't need it. That's not what my wish was."
She rose from the fountain.
"Go make your own wish. You took mine away."
"No, no, no. I don't have any wishes."
"You're lying. Who in the world doesn't have a wish?"
"I used to."
Drunk, Pechenik told her a bunch of personal history that she didn't ask for.
"I've wished countless times to see my sweet little girl grow up and get married."
"..."
"One day, I tempered my wish, fearing I was being too greedy. I simply pleaded for my daughter to live another year."
"..."
"Do you have any idea how much I've paid for prayers at the temple? I could have funded two mansions like this with my offerings."
"... You must be quite wealthy."
"Well, there's not a pauper among the Tenearha."
"..."
Tenearha.
Erica's head shot up at the familiar term.
She couldn't fathom that this seemingly foolish middle-aged man was a member of the Imperial Knights, much like her father.
"So, tell me anything. What do you want me to purchase for you?"
Pechenik inquired once more, realizing that if he ignored the plight of a distressed young maid whose birthday candle he had extinguished, he'd never find comfort in drinking again.
So he pledged her a birthday gift and departed with a sense of tranquility.
"... so I can get out of the Count's house."
Erica opened her mouth.
"Help me."
With clear eyes, she gazed up at Pechenik.
"That's what I was going to wish for."
The man was so tall that she had to crane her head to see the sky.
Pechenik didn't have the decency to bend the knee to a mere young maid, and their gazes met.
Pechenik said nothing for a moment.
His eyes finally scanned the child.
At first glance, he'd assumed that the young maids were disciplined quite strictly at Count Herais's house.
Though it was impolite to pass judgment on a household's inhabitants, even young maids were expected to present themselves tidily when guests arrived, as they had today.
However, Erica resembled a beggar from the slums.
'This is out of line.'
There had to be a reason for a young maid to seek refuge outside the manor's walls on her own accord.
He was undoubtedly aware of Count Herais's indifference toward his family.
Perhaps there were issues with how the countess or the maidservants managed their charges, but—
"... That would be difficult."
Pechenik couldn't intervene.
Unwritten rules governed the aristocratic realm.
While he held enough sway with Count Herais to potentially secure the release of a young maid through persuasive rhetoric, the "if he spoke well" caveat filled him with unease.
"Unless you need a gift, I'll take my leave."
"..."
"Do you truly have no need? Perhaps a rabbit doll?"
"..."
"Should I leave?"
"..."
In the end, Erica offered no response, prompting Pechenik to turn on his heel.
"..."
Erica glanced at his big back as he walked away. It didn't mean much.
After a few paces, Pechenik loomed over her once more, his sturdy, bear-like frame pivoting.
"By the way, happy birthday."
He casually scratched the bridge of his nose before continuing on his way.
It was likely well past midnight.
"... Mm."
Erica hugged the teddy bear tightly.
She was embarrassed.
"Thank you."
In truth, it wasn't her birthday— not yesterday, not today, not any day, really. It was merely a day she had chosen.
She swallowed the lump in her throat, determined to hide her emotions.
"Happy birthday to you, too!"
Erica's face lit up with a wide-eyed smile, radiating childlike innocence and charm.
"Happy birthday, Daddy!"
Pechenik felt a jolt as memories of his deceased daughter flooded his mind, catching him off guard.
"... Yes."
In that moment, he realized he was in trouble.
"... Thank you."
It was a disaster.
A long-buried memory box had been forcefully pried open.
Needless to say, it was catastrophic.
How had he forgotten her? How had he loved her? How had he awakened to find himself utterly alone?
The resurfaced nightmares engulfed Pechenik like the plague that had claimed his wife and daughter so many years ago.
"..."
Even as he returned to the tavern and drowned himself in drink until dawn.
Even as haunting dreams plagued his sleep.
Even as he tightened his grip on his sword during the morning training with the Knights, which proceeded relentlessly.
"...Damn."
Nostalgia pierced his heart effortlessly.
The people he could never return to—like a fragrance scattered by the wind when the box was pried open wide.
A life that ceased to hold joy, even amidst swordplay or raucous laughter.
The emptiness that ensued felt like an unfathomable abyss.
***
One year later.
Erica encountered the peculiar man once again.
Pechenik was celebrating his birthday once more, this time at Count Herais' residence.
It was fortunate that he had given prior notice this time, if only for the Countess's sake, as the sheer absurdity of the situation would have likely caused her to faint.
"Madam, did you know? A young maid here shares the same birthday as I do, and I only discovered it by chance last year."
"Oh my, how delightful! I must inform the maid and ensure she receives a slice of cake."
The Countess responded, donning her facade of benevolence.
Although she had little interest in the maid's birthday, she understood the importance of maintaining appearances in such circumstances.
However, she never managed to locate the maid whose birthday coincided with Pechenik's, and the cake remained undelivered.
Meanwhile, the birthday girl, Erica, clandestinely lit a candle on a small loaf of bread she had smuggled.
Realizing she needed eight candles for her eighth birthday but lacked sufficient supplies, she hastily blew out the candles and made a wish to seize the opportunity she had missed the previous year.
"Help me escape from the Count's manor."
With a quick prayer, Erica spotted Pechenik in the hallway.
He shared the same birthday as her.
Overjoyed to see him again, she rushed up to him and exclaimed,
"... Mister."