Chapter 8 — Happy Birthday
The day of the birthday party had finally arrived.
Sunlight streamed through the manor's massive windows, painting everything in shades of gold that made the polished marble floors gleam like mirrors. The air itself seemed to vibrate with anticipation, carrying the mingled scents of fresh flowers, baking bread, roasting meat, and the particular sweetness of spun sugar decorations.
All the servants were on edge—or rather, unusually restless.
They were desperately drilling the manual I had put together, their voices rising and falling in urgent whispers as they reviewed procedures. I caught fragments as I passed through hallways: "Table seven needs wine refills every twenty minutes," "The marquis is allergic to shellfish," "Emergency exits are marked in red."
They were determined to handle any trouble swiftly and flawlessly, their faces set with the kind of focused intensity usually reserved for military operations.
And honestly? I was feeling a fair amount of nervousness myself.
My hands were slightly clammy despite the manor's comfortable temperature, and I'd caught myself checking my pocket watch obsessively—every five minutes, then every three, then every minute as the start time approached.
Well, with the absurd number of guests attending, there was no way I wouldn't be tense.
The guest list had topped two hundred at final count. Two hundred nobles, their families, their retainers. The great hall could barely contain them all, and we'd had to open three adjacent rooms to accommodate overflow.
After all, a birthday party is a place of socializing—especially at this level of society.
I doubt even half the people here came purely out of goodwill to celebrate Erica. Most were here for networking, for political maneuvering, for the opportunity to curry favor with Count Adelbater or make connections with other powerful families. The birthday girl herself was secondary to their calculations.
Because this event carried political and social significance, we had to be on high alert to keep any unsavory types away from the young lady.
People who might whisper cruel things about her curse, who might try to use her for their own ends.
My motivation here was crystal clear: protect Erica. Not just physically, but from the social predators who would wound her with words and manipulation. This was my purpose, my drive—to ensure her special day remained special.
Lord Adelbater had also ordered me to do just that.
Although—what he told me was:
"For now, decide based on your own judgment."
I wish he hadn't given me such an absurd, unreasonable task, placing the weight of potential social catastrophe on a ten-year-old's shoulders. I really think he overestimates what someone my age can do—or at least, what someone who appears to be my age can manage.
But well, it also means he trusts me that much.
Who's decent, and who looks suspicious. My ability to read people would be tested today—but since I'd thoroughly played through this otome game world in my previous life, I should manage. I knew the major players, recognized faces from character sprites, could identify potential threats before they became problems.
Reading people's intentions is child's play when you have meta-knowledge on your side!
『Ladies and gentlemen, thank you all for gathering here today—』
Adelbater's resolute voice echoed through the hall, amplified by clever acoustics built into the architecture. The sound rolled like thunder, commanding and authoritative.
All eyes turned toward him, the once noisy atmosphere gradually quieting. Conversations died mid-sentence. Glasses stopped clinking. Even the musicians fell silent.
『To celebrate the special day of my daughter, Erica—』
While he spoke, I discreetly surveyed those around me, careful not to draw attention. My eyes moved systematically across the crowd, cataloging faces, noting body language, watching for anything out of place.
Times like this—when things are quiet and no one's watching anyone but the speaker—are perfect opportunities for fools to start doing foolish things. Pickpockets, saboteurs, opportunistic gossips—they all thrived in moments of distraction.
I sharpened my gaze, scanning the crowd for anything suspicious. Hands reaching where they shouldn't. Eyes filled with malice. The telltale tension of someone about to cause trouble.
And then—
(Hm?)
My eyes caught on a particular pair of individuals standing near the western wall, partially obscured by a decorative pillar.
Nothing about them was overtly suspicious or strange at first glance.
A tall boy with tied-up blond hair that gleamed like spun gold in the chandelier light, fair skin that spoke of indoor pursuits, and a calm expression that bordered on serene. Beside him stood another boy, almost identical—just slightly shorter and with darker shading to his colors, as if someone had painted the first boy again but with a heavier hand.
If you wanted to find a pair like them, they existed everywhere—typical lookalike brothers from noble families where genetics ran strong and consistent.
Judging by their ornate clothing—velvet doublets with silver threading, boots polished to a mirror shine—well, even without those expensive markers, it was clear they were brought here by noble parents of considerable standing.
That was all. Nothing noteworthy. At least, not at first glance.
But something still snagged in my mind like a thorn catching on fabric.
A vague discomfort that I couldn't shake off, couldn't rationalize away with logical observation. It was hard to put into words, but somehow, those two overlapped with… something lingering faintly in my memory. A half-remembered character sprite? A minor plot point I'd skimmed past? The feeling was maddeningly elusive.
If I got a bit closer, maybe I could figure out—
(!)
Suddenly, the taller blond boy met my eyes directly.
Noticing that, the shorter one also began shifting his eyes toward me.
I reflexively snapped my gaze away, pretending to look at the untouched food nearby.
Did they notice?Well, even if they did, all I could do was apologize for being rude.It'd be troublesome if they suspected anything weird, though.
When I stealthily glanced back again—
(Huh?)
They were gone.
The space near the western pillar was now occupied by a cluster of elderly nobles discussing something with animated hand gestures. Had the brothers been hidden behind the crowd? I surveyed the surroundings a little, craning my neck carefully, but they were nowhere to be seen in the sea of elaborate gowns and formal jackets.
Where did they go?
To vanish in that instant—less than ten seconds since I'd looked away—was remarkable. The hall had only two exits, both visible from my position, and I hadn't seen anyone leave.
Were they actually suspicious after all?
If so, then I wanted to applaud my own detection skills. Trust the reincarnated gamer to spot trouble!
But no—whatever that feeling I had earlier was, it didn't seem like that kind of suspicion. Not the prickling danger sense of a threat, but something else. Something more like... recognition? But of what, I couldn't say.
I stood up to move toward where they had been, intending to investigate—
And then—
『Now, please welcome today's main star—Erica. Pray, behold her radiant presence.』
The doors of the hall swung wide open with a dramatic flourish, the heavy wood moving smoothly despite its obvious weight.
And entering, of course, was the star of today's celebration.
Clad in a dazzling dress that seemed created for this very moment—layers of silk in graduated shades of rose and cream, with silver embroidery that caught the light like captured starlight—yet with her natural coloring giving her an elegant calmness that prevented the gown from overwhelming her. Erica herself stepped forward, radiant beyond words.
Her rose-gold hair had been arranged in an elaborate style, half up with cascading curls, adorned with tiny diamonds that sparkled with each movement. Those crystalline blue eyes were highlighted with subtle cosmetics that made them appear even larger, more luminous. She looked like something from a painting, a vision of nobility perfected.
She flawlessly carried out the etiquette Nanai had taught her, walking gracefully down the crimson carpet with measured steps. Her posture was perfect—spine straight, shoulders back, chin slightly elevated. Each movement was controlled, elegant, the result of weeks of practice.
Originally, I was supposed to take Shelly's place as her escort for this entrance, walking beside her to provide support and presence.
But since I'd accidentally ended up in a "leader-like" position among the staff, coordinating everyone's efforts, today it was arranged differently. Shelly got the honor instead while I managed logistics from the sidelines.
And now, I kind of regret it. Or rather—I'm jealous of Shelly's position with an intensity that surprised me.
Because Erica was far too beautiful.
The phrase "so cute it doesn't hurt to look at" had never made sense to me before now.
Being captivated—That was exactly what I was going through.
It seemed the other guests felt the same.
Although their applause continued, men and women alike stared at her with slack jaws, eyes fixed on her as she walked.
Part of me wanted to say with smug pride, "That's my mistress—and my friend, by the way~," but of course, I didn't. That would be wildly inappropriate and probably get me dismissed immediately.
The two mysterious boys were already forgotten, my mind completely absorbed in watching her walk. Each step, each graceful movement, the slight smile playing at her lips—all of it commanded my absolute attention.
And then—once again—our eyes met across the crowded hall.
This time, with Erica herself.
Her lips curved ever so faintly upward, a hint of joy resting in her eyes that hadn't been there before. That expression was for me, I realized. Seeking me out in the crowd, finding reassurance in my presence.
I realized I had been smiling back at her without thinking—a broad, genuine smile that had no place on a servant's face during formal proceedings.
So I hurried to correct my expression and gave her a polite nod instead, bowing lightly in return.
When she finished her procession and stood with composed elegance, she already looked like a fully polished count's daughter.
Erica was truly incredible.
She hadn't been this dazzling or confident before.Kids really do grow up in three years.
I was thinking that, a bit absentmindedly, sinking into sentimentality.
Once all the greetings and formalities were over, the actual fun part of the party began—entertainment.
I had arranged the performers myself using my game knowledge.They were still newcomers, but already very skilled. If they became famous, our connection might earn us some favors later.
Because of that—and because things were going well—I was in unusually high spirits, even while staying alert.
But then someone approached, grounding me immediately.
"Liam-kun,"
"…Shelly-san."
shelly came trotting over timidly, her usual confident demeanor completely absent. She looked rather troubled—her brows knitted together, her hands twisting the fabric of her skirt.
"What's wrong? You were supposed to be guarding Erica-sama, right? You shouldn't wander too far…"
She was meant to stay within arm's reach of Erica throughout the party, providing both physical security and social support. Her absence from that post was concerning.
"U-Um, about that…"
I wasn't accusing her, but she might get scolded later, so I pointed it out.Her eyebrows drooped even further in a pained expression.
Then, in a grave tone, she spoke:
"Could you… take over as Lady Erica's escort?"
…Huh?
"What??"
I shifted my gaze toward Erica—and saw, in her eyes, a hint of displeasure subtle enough that probably only I would notice.