Early Spring, 1930 (Aurelian Standard) – Kronfeld, The Royal Capital.
It had been several weeks since my father left home, and at least two weeks since Erzregen had officially declared war on the Republic of Noirval. Although news of the war had spread across the nation, for many people in the capital, it was nothing more than a distant event—something yet to leave a tangible mark on their daily lives.
The streets were as busy as ever. Shops remained open, street vendors still called out their wares, and the cheerful laughter of children playing in narrow alleyways filled the air. Mothers strolled leisurely, baskets in hand, chatting with their friends as if nothing had changed. Men who were not conscripted still went to work every morning, continuing their routines as though no looming threat waited beyond the horizon.
If someone arrived in the city unaware of the situation, they might believe this was a time of peace. There was no panic, no blaring sirens, no signs of destruction. Only the vast blue sky stretched over rooftops, the gentle breeze carrying the scent of freshly baked bread, and life moving forward, undisturbed.
But I knew better than to be deceived.
War always began like this—quiet, almost imperceptible, like a storm lingering on the horizon. Distant, unseen, but inevitable. For the ordinary citizens, war was merely a headline in the newspapers, a topic of conversation among merchants. But on the frontlines, the horrors had already begun. Every day, a father, a husband, or a brother might fall. Every night, a family somewhere in the city might weep in silence, awaiting word from the battlefield—an answer that might never come.
And the most terrifying thought of all was that by the time war truly made itself known, it would already be at our doorstep. If that happened, there would be nothing left for us to do—because by then, our country would have already lost hope.
In the newspapers, we seemed to have the upper hand—the headlines celebrated the success of Felsburg's forces in breaking through Noirval's border defenses. The capital was swept up in festivities, the people rejoicing at news of victory, bolstered by reports of mass surrenders among Noirval's troops. Alongside this, Felsburg reclaimed lands that had once been voluntarily relinquished by King Albert II due to international pressure and relentless waves of rebellion.
It was said that at least half a million Noirval soldiers had surrendered without a fight. But I couldn't take that number at face value—it was too grand, too convenient, like propaganda designed to boost public morale. I had no clear understanding of how they managed to breach Noirval's defenses in the first place. But one thing I knew for certain: the deception operation I had once been aware of was merely a fragment of something much larger.
I let out a deep breath, my arms trembling as my body collapsed onto the floor. Sweat trickled down my temples, my breath coming in ragged gasps. I had lost count of how many times I had tried to improve my stamina, yet the results were always disappointing. Compared to before, my body now felt far weaker. Staring up at the ceiling, I tried to steady my breathing.
"18... 19... 20..."
But with war already underway, I had to be ready for whatever was coming. War showed no mercy. Strong or weak, all became victims. So, even though my body ached and exhaustion weighed on me, I knew I couldn't give up.
Suddenly, the creak of a door opening interrupted my thoughts, followed by a voice so familiar that it sent a chill down my spine.
"...Erina?"
My mother's voice.
My body jolted in surprise, and I instantly sprang up from the floor, hastily wiping the sweat from my forehead. It felt as if a pair of unseen eyes had been watching my every move.
"Uh—Mom? What's up?" I asked, forcing a wide smile to hide what I had just been doing.
"Nothing, I just wanted to check on you," she replied in a casual tone. But then, her eyes narrowed suspiciously. "By the way..."
My heartbeat quickened. Oh no. Was she getting suspicious?
Lately, she had been scolding me about my tomboyish habits, constantly reminding me to be more 'feminine' and to abandon behaviors she deemed 'unladylike.'
Of course, doing push-ups wasn't something exclusive to men, but my mother was old-fashioned—someone who saw anything outside traditional norms as strange. I didn't want to risk explaining myself now.
"You were doing something weird again, weren't you?" She fixed me with a knowing gaze.
This was it. My fate was sealed. It was as if she had the ability to read my mind.
"I knew it," she continued. "Your father must have been teaching you strange things again. When he gets home, I'll make sure to give him a piece of my mind."
"Eh? Shouldn't you be proud of having a strong daughter?" I said, awkwardly attempting to deflect the conversation.
She let out a weary sigh. "I would prefer if you had the same enthusiasm for behaving more like a proper young lady..."
I knew exactly where this was going. This wasn't the first time we had argued about this. Every time I did something she disapproved of, she would complain about how 'unladylike' and 'unbecoming' I was.
"Mom, what kind of mother calls her own child weird?" I teased.
"I wouldn't be weird if you weren't weird, Erina."
"Oh? Maybe because you're weird, I inherited it from you?" I grinned playfully.
"You're getting cheekier by the day..." she said, her expression darkening slightly.
"Hoho, I learned from the best," I said smugly, puffing out my chest as if I had just won a grand victory.
But just as I was about to savor my triumph, she suddenly took a step forward, her face eerily neutral. Before I could react, she crouched in front of me—then, in a swift and merciless move, her fingers latched onto my waist.
"W-Wha—?! Ahahaha! No! Stop!"
A tickle attack!
I collapsed instantly, my body twisting and thrashing as her fingers mercilessly dug into my sides. I kicked wildly, trying to escape, but she gave me no opening.
"Let's see if you can still talk back now, Miss Genius," she said in a victorious tone.
"Th-That's—hahaha—cheating!" I barely managed to speak between fits of uncontrollable laughter.
"There are no rules in war, my dear," she teased, her fingers moving even faster.
"Ack—Mom! No! I give up!" I squirmed, but then—she found my weakest spot. Under my arms.
I shrieked, tears welling in the corners of my eyes from laughing too hard. My stomach hurt, my breathing was ragged, but she showed no mercy.
"You surrender too easily, Erina," she chuckled, thoroughly enjoying my suffering.
I rolled over, desperate to escape, but she effortlessly pinned me down. My strength was gone, my limbs weak from excessive laughter.
"Ack... M-Mom... Enough! I... huhuhu..." I gasped like a fish out of water.
Finally, she let go, looking entirely satisfied with herself. I lay sprawled on the floor, breathless, as if I had just survived a brutal battle.
"That should teach you not to be so mouthy," she said, dusting off her hands as if she had completed an important mission.
I glared at her in defeat. "Mom... you're inhuman..."
She simply laughed, ruffling my hair. "And you're still just a little girl in my eyes, no matter how tough you try to act."
I grumbled, trying to calm my racing heart after the merciless tickle attack. But deep down, I couldn't stop a small smile from forming on my lips.
Maybe, in a world as chaotic as this, moments like these were what made life feel a little lighter.
I was still trying to catch my breath after barely escaping my mother's ruthless tickle attack. My body felt weak from laughing too much, yet despite my exhaustion, a small smile remained on my lips. There was something so comforting about this moment—a fleeting reprieve that made the chaos of the world feel a little lighter.
But that peace didn't last long.
I saw it. That look.
A mischievous grin spread across my mother's face.
"You let your guard down!" she declared triumphantly, her eyes gleaming with excitement. "There's no way I'm stopping here!"
I hadn't even fully recovered when she lunged at me again. Her hands moved fast, reaching for my waist once more.
"Wha—!? Wuahahaha! Stop it, please!" I flailed helplessly, but she gave me no opening to escape.
She was enjoying this far too much. I could see the excitement in her expression, as if she had just discovered her new favorite game. She struck without mercy, giving me no chance to catch my breath. I twisted and kicked, trying to wriggle away, but every attempt to escape was thwarted by her relentless hands.
But no matter how strong the enemy, there was always a weakness.
In the midst of the chaos, she made a mistake—her grip loosened for just a second. And that was all I needed. With the reflexes of a battlefield-hardened soldier, I twisted free and bolted like a shot from a gun.
"Haha! I'm free!" I cheered, hardly believing my own success.
But my mother only grinned wider.
"Not for long!"
And just like that, the chase was on.
We ran through the house like a pair of unruly children. From the living room to the kitchen, from the kitchen to my bedroom, even past my father's study—which, thankfully, was empty. We narrowly avoided knocking over the dining table, nearly sent a flower vase crashing to the floor, and likely left behind a mess that would make my father question what had happened while he was gone.
I was just about to reach the front hall when—
"You're cornered," my mother declared with victorious glee, blocking the narrow hallway that led to the front door.
I swallowed hard.
"Damn it." I glanced around, searching for an escape route. "Come on, let's negotiate! A truce! A white peace!"
She only smirked.
"There are no negotiations in war, sweetheart."
I had made a fatal mistake without realizing it. I had run into the one part of the house with only one exit—the front door. And now, with slow, deliberate steps, my mother advanced, closing the distance between us.
I took cautious steps backward, desperate to find a way out. But then—my back hit the door. This was it. My only escape.
"Got you!"
"Ah!—hahaha! Stop!"
As I reached for the doorknob, she struck, grabbing my waist again and launching her ultimate tickle assault.
"N-no! Wuahahaha!" I burst into laughter, collapsing onto the floor as the attack intensified. This time, there was truly no way out. No room to run. All I could do was endure and attempt to fight back, though my efforts were pitiful at best.
"Well? Do you surrender now, little genius?" she teased, her fingers dancing mercilessly over my skin.
"I—I won't—hahaha!—I won't give up!" I could barely get the words out between fits of laughter, my body writhing desperately.
And then, the unexpected happened.
In the middle of our chaotic battle, the front door suddenly swung open.
I wasn't sure if I had accidentally hit the knob or if my mother had unknowingly pushed me further against it—but in an instant, light from outside flooded the hallway, revealing a man in a courier uniform.
A postal worker.
He stared at us.
Still laughing uncontrollably, I tried to warn my mother. "Hahaha—stop! Ahhhaha—we have a guest—hahaha! Mom, I told you we have a guest!"
But she was still too absorbed in her victory to notice.
"There's no saving you now, Erina—"
"Mom!" I practically shouted in desperation.
Finally, she registered the presence of the very bewildered postal worker.
"Oh."
She immediately released me and stood up with practiced elegance, as if nothing out of the ordinary had just happened. I, on the other hand, remained sprawled on the floor, gasping for air.
With complete composure, she smoothed her hair and looked at the man. "May I help you?"
The courier blinked several times, as though still trying to process the bizarre scene he had just walked into.
"U-uh, this… there's a letter for you," he said at last, his voice slightly unsteady.
My mother took the envelope gracefully, acting as if she hadn't just been torturing her daughter with tickles moments ago. "Thank you."
Still lying on the floor, I turned to the courier with a look of sheer exhaustion.
He gave me a slow nod—perhaps deciding that he had seen far too much—and quickly turned on his heel, leaving without another word.
As the door closed, I finally regained my breath.
I looked up at my mother in disbelief.
"Do you… do you feel even a little embarrassed?" I asked, still panting.
She simply shrugged. "Why should I? I was just having fun with my beloved daughter."
I groaned, flopping back onto the floor in defeat.