After that whole incident, when we returned to the mansion—or rather, when I returned—I was greeted by a flood of enthusiastic offers from nobles.
Apparently, word had spread: "There's a young servant boy who's close to Lady Erica, calmly soothed that aggressive Razor, and even handled being punched without losing his composure! Surely he'll grow into someone influential!"So naturally, they'd all come to stake their claim early.
If it had been just one or two people, I might have managed.But when it's over a dozen? Even I was bewildered.
If I sat down with even one of them, they would expect long conversations one after another. So I politely declined every offer all at once.
Erica's expression wasn't bright either.
She, too, had received several political invitations—dances, social approaches, the usual noble networking. But she turned all of them down with her signature social smile… or rather, her gentle, polite mask.
Since she'd already danced her "first dance" with me earlier, I figured she could just accept one or two invitations.But… maybe it didn't feel right to her.I didn't press the matter and simply deflected anyone who got too persistent.
Though I couldn't help noticing that when nobles invited her to dance, they'd glance at me and their smiles would twitch slightly, becoming strained. Probably remembering what happened with Razer. But I wasn't going to put everyone to sleep or restrain them! That had been a specific circumstance, not my default response to social situations.
And so, with various such incidents occurring, time passed steadily.
The birthday party—long when you included the preparation period—finally came to an end.
＊＊＊
I need to correct that statement.
In several ways, the birthday party still wasn't over.
Parties required preparation, yes, but they also came with cleanup. And cleanup could be just as exhausting as the event itself.
As a servant—and mysteriously occupying a leadership position despite my age—I found myself caught up in the aftermath of this considerable-scale party. The work seemed endless, a hydra of tasks that spawned two more for every one completed.
It was genuinely exhausting work. Dealing with leftover food, processing entertainment equipment from the various performances, cleaning the venue, storing supplies and decorations—all these various tasks required instructions distributed to each team. I found myself running throughout the manor in a dizzying circuit, my footsteps echoing through hallways that smelled of extinguished candles and fading perfume.
I'd felt several times, with painful clarity, that I was sick of this kind of event management. Next time, I wanted a much easier position. Maybe something that involved standing in one place and looking decorative.
However, well, as a result of tackling everything desperately—throwing myself into the work with single-minded determination—it looked like we'd manage to finish before the day changed. Before midnight struck and turned Erica's birthday into just another day.
The time it took was about four hours, I think. That was fairly quick for an event of this scale. Thanks to all the servants working so hard, pushing through their exhaustion, we'd achieved something remarkable.
This meant I wouldn't be too... too late for my promise. I added "too" because I was already running over the agreed time, watching the clock with increasing anxiety as minutes ticked past.
This promise was the other reason the birthday party still wasn't truly over—at least not for me.
Back when we danced together by the lakeside, Erica had told me:
"After the party ends, come to my room."
I asked her why, but she only smiled and said nothing.A "look forward to it and see when you arrive" kind of vibe.
Not that I knew whether it was really something to "look forward to."Maybe she'd say "I'm tired, massage my shoulders,"or "I can't sleep, sing me a lullaby,"or give me another assignment.
I was mulling over such things while writing the cleanup report when—
"Master Liam, good work. The cleanup team has finished. All checklist items are confirmed."
Shelly approached me with the completed documents.
The main hall was done too. That area was the hardest and most time-consuming, so having it finished already was impressive.
"Ah, Shelly-saan. Good work. You finished already? That's fast."
"Hehe, I suppose it is."
She smiled softly.Did something amusing happen?
"What is it?"
"Oh, nothing. It's just… everyone was saying, 'If that little boy is working so hard for this party, then at least we should handle the cleanup properly!'So they all pushed themselves."
She narrowed her eyes fondly, as though recalling the motivated servants.
No wonder things wrapped up early—they must have worked with serious enthusiasm.And if that was because of my example… well, it felt kind of nice.
"That's a little embarrassing."
"You really worked yourself to the bone for this event. Enough that we felt ashamed for not doing more."
"No, no. It was everyone's effort that made it possible. I could never have done this alone."
"Even so, I'm certain the party turned out wonderful because you were here."
O-oh.
Being praised that directly… was a bit overwhelming.
Come to think of it, no one had really acknowledged my hard work until now.It almost made me emotional.
"Lady Erica seemed to enjoy herself too. I guess it was worth the effort."
"You can be confident in that."
Shelly and I shared a small laugh.We were both clearly exhausted, but a little more push wouldn't kill us.
"…You know, seeing you now reminds me of the past."
"The past?"
She sat opposite me and began speaking in a gentle voice.
"Yes. When I was about ten… maybe eleven or twelve. I had a younger childhood friend in the same village. She was ten—just like you and Lady Erica now."
She closed her eyes, as though sifting through memories.
"When her birthday came, I wanted to throw a party for her. Neither of us had parents, so when I turned ten, there hadn't been anything like a celebration. I didn't want her to feel that same loneliness."
"That's a kind thing to do."
"Thank you. Though I didn't put in nearly as much effort as you. I simply asked the whole village for help, and the adults pitched in."
Even then, doing all that for a friend was admirable.Most people can't easily act on their empathy like that.
"When I watched you, I couldn't help seeing my younger self… presumptuous as that may sound. I mean—"
She looked directly at me.
"You and Lady Erica are the same age. In a way… aren't you two like childhood friends?"
Her words snagged in my mind.
"Childhood friends…?"
"Yes. So I suppose it made me nostalgic."
That one term—childhood friend—kept echoing in my head.Not the word itself, but the meaning: Erica's childhood friend.
Why did that bother me?
Eleonore's childhood friend… did she even have one?Well, I'm an irregular existence in the world of Pumitra Celest Kingdom, so feeling off-track shouldn't surprise me.
Yet for some reason, I couldn't brush it off.
Something about that role—her childhood friend—felt strangely important…
"Master Liam?"
Shelly's voice snapped me back.
"Are you alright? You were staring off."
Her face was unexpectedly close, and I instinctively leaned back.
"N-no, I was just… thinking."
"I see. Well, you must be exhausted. Please rest soon, alright?"
"…Okay."
She seemed convinced my odd behavior was just fatigue.I forced a weak smile and rubbed my forehead.
"Shelly saaan, we need you over here—"
"Ah! Coming! Then, I'll return to my station. Let's both hang in there a while longer!"
"Y-yeah… right."
Before I could even respond properly, she'd already hurried back to work.
And so I was left alone—sitting there, holding a quill, wearing a strangely twisted expression.
Just me… and the lingering weight of that one phrase:
Erica's childhood friend.