The Forgotten Field - Chapter 28

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Chapter 28
It must have been several months before her sixteenth birthday.
Anxious about becoming an adult in the coming months, she pestered him more relentlessly than usual, wheedling for his help in selecting clothes and accessories. It was a pathetic attempt to capture his attention.
Barcas, who would normally have ignored such requests, seemed worn down by her persistent nagging and began offering his opinions without resistance.
Perhaps he had grown lenient, thinking that in a few months she would be free of him. How infuriatingly magnanimous he was. Yet despite this, I felt a desperate urgency—as though I would do anything to keep Barcas bound to me.
Because the end that seemed so distant was finally drawing near.
“What do you think of this dress for my coming-of-age ceremony?”
She donned an elaborate silk dress procured from the Southern Region and thrust her upper body forward before him with deliberate ostentation.
Barcas, as always, merely cast a dry gaze upon her. Her face grew increasingly warm beneath that composed stare.
He was now advancing from nineteen toward twenty, and his body, having shed its boyish frame, had hardened into masculine beauty. Had it not been for those lifeless, emotionless eyes, he would have resembled an angel descended from heaven.
Talia deliberately raised her voice to conceal her trembling heart.
“I’m asking what you think!”
“…It appears as though a child has stolen an adult’s garment.”
At last, his firmly sealed lips parted.
She narrowed her eyes. The man added another dismissive remark.
“It suits you dreadfully poorly.”
Her face flushed crimson as she glared at him. Yet since she had been the one to solicit his opinion, she found it difficult to argue back.
With eyes blazing with indignation, Talia stomped her feet and retreated behind the dressing screen. There, she rummaged frantically through the mountain of garments piled before her. She was determined to make that corpse-like man blush.
After some time, she selected a far more daring dress—one with a neckline so perilously deep it bordered on scandalous. Talia hesitated, wondering if she had gone too far, but soon steeled her resolve and hastily slipped the dress onto her body. Gazing into the mirror, a breathtakingly beautiful girl stared back at her.
She examined her reflection with satisfaction, turning this way and that. The willowy frame that had resembled a birch tree had begun to transform starting at age fourteen. Her once-flat chest had begun to swell, growing to the size of apples, and her previously unremarkable hips had gradually filled out.
Talia took great pride in her transformation. The thought that she was approaching the flawless beauty possessed by Senevir filled her with boundless elation. Once Barcas understood what she possessed, he would surely change his mind. She would soon become the most beautiful woman in the world.
Buoyed by hope, she burst forth from behind the screen.
“How about this one?”
Barcas, who had been gazing out the window with an expression of ennui, turned his head toward her. For the first time, something resembling emotion appeared on his face. However, it was scarcely a positive emotion.
Furrowing his brow, Barcas swept his gaze over her and spoke with some irritation.
“The first dress.”
He drew a deep breath and added flatly.
“Wear that one.”
His voice was devoid of the admiration or agitation she had anticipated—utterly parched and hollow. Yet the mere fact that he remembered the very first dress among the dozens she had presented sent her heart soaring.
She offered him a knowing smile.
“What is this? Pretending to be indifferent, yet you were watching closely all along?”
He made no response. Whatever the case, he seemed merely to wish for this tedious fashion show to end quickly.
A flash of petulance arose at his arrogant demeanor, but Talia chose to overlook it graciously. Even if she could not change his attitude immediately, she had resolved to gradually reveal a transformed version of herself.
Talia hummed as she retrieved the dress she had worn first.
It was a delicate and elegant velvet surcoat densely embroidered with fairy-folk needlework. This dress would never leave her wardrobe—not for eternity. For it had caught Barcas’s eye.
She quickly changed into the garment and emerged before him, spinning deliberately to display it.
“This one, right?”
He gazed at her steadily. The woman who had been irritable all day was now giggling like someone intoxicated, yet he seemed unmoved by the strangeness of it. Perhaps whether she raged like a monster or giggled like a madwoman made little difference to him.
Yet Talia desperately wished to believe that his demeanor toward her had changed.
And indeed, his once-indifferent gaze had begun, at some point, to linger upon her face for extended periods. That was not all. His manner of speaking to her seemed to have grown gentler than before.
Talia’s keen senses caught that subtle shift, and she felt a fragile thread of hope stirring within her chest.
Could it be that Barcas, too, found parting with her difficult? After spending so much time together, perhaps even he had grown fond of her. Talia clung desperately to such futile hope.
“If I dance in this dress, won’t I look just like a fairy queen?”
At her question, a faint crease appeared between his brows.
Was he weary of her endless questions? No—perhaps he was considering how to answer her. She chose to interpret it favorably.
“Stop standing there like a statue and rehearse with me.”
Before he could respond, Talia seized his arm and pulled him along. The man who would not have budged an inch before now allowed himself to be drawn, feigning reluctance.
There, you see. Talia felt triumphant. Something had definitely changed.
She tugged him more forcefully, his stiffness suggesting little willingness to cooperate, and spun them both in circles. But her foot caught on a chest lying on the floor, and she lost her balance. Talia instinctively grabbed his arm.
Barcas uttered something unintelligible and hastily wrapped an arm around her waist.
But the chamber was in such disarray that there was nowhere safe to step. Clothes piled haphazardly tangled around his ankles, and they tumbled together onto the carpet. Talia let out a small curse.
“You should have cleaned this room properly!”
Barcas, who had suffered for trying to steady her, raised one eyebrow. He was a guard, not a servant. He could not be expected to perform such trivial tasks. Yet knowing this full well, Talia vented her irritation anyway.
“If I have even a single bruise on my backside, I won’t let you off easy. You useless excuse for a guard!”
As she grumbled and tried to push herself up, a sharp pain shot through her scalp. Talia glared at him in disbelief.
“Did you just pull my hair?”
A brief sigh escaped his lips.
“Your hair appears to be caught on my cuff button.”
He then drew the arm he had wrapped around her back slightly forward to show her.
As pain pricked her scalp again, Talia cried out and struck his chest.
“It hurts, you fool!”
He stilled, gazing down at her eyes, which glistened with unshed tears. Though her heart ached, Talia shot him a glare.
Barcas released another quiet sigh and wrapped his arm around her back once more. Then he began moving his hand carefully, as if attempting to untangle her hair.
Talia sat between his knees, her eyes darting nervously. Only then did she become aware of their improper proximity and position.
The faint scent of soap and mint emanating from him made her heart race so fiercely she feared he might hear it. The sound seemed loud enough to reach his ears.

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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