The Forgotten Field - Chapter 29

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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 29
Talia’s fingers fidgeted awkwardly as she released a hoarse whisper.
“If you so much as break a single strand of my hair, I won’t forgive you.”
He offered no response. Yet his movements grew noticeably more deliberate. As his touch caressed her hair with an almost reverent gentleness, I swallowed hard against the dryness in my throat.
Through the gaping neckline of his shirt, I glimpsed the prominent contours of his neck and collarbones, elegant as a bird’s wings. His forearms—supple yet formidable—flexed with each movement, achingly vivid in my awareness, and his long legs, wrapped in wool trousers, positioned mere inches from my thighs, commanded far more of my attention than was prudent.
I bowed my head deeply to conceal the crimson flush spreading across my face.
“How much longer?”
Surely it shouldn’t take this long to free a mere strand caught on a button. Or was my anxiety stretching this moment into an eternity? Perspiration began to seep from my palms.
I rubbed my hands against the heap of garments scattered on the floor. Then I noticed the flush creeping up the inside of my wrists and froze in mortification.
Could my entire body have turned red? How utterly pathetic I must appear! My voice rose with irritation.
“That’s enough—just cut it!”
Barcas, who was ordinarily swift and precise in all his movements, finally lowered his hand to his waist.
I stiffened as I watched him draw his dagger. He brought his arm back around my shoulders. Without thinking, I gripped his garment tightly.
“D-don’t cut too much, please. My hair…”
Before I could finish, a soft snick sounded and the faint pressure on my scalp vanished. I spun around frantically, terrified he’d severed a great chunk.
Fortunately, no hair lay scattered on the floor. Instead, a gleaming golden button rested on the ground.
I picked it up and examined it closely. The finely crafted button bore the crest of the Roem Knights engraved upon its surface.
I turned back to look up at him. Barcas had already risen and was sliding his dagger back into its sheath.
“How much longer will you remain seated?”
Barcas adjusted his disheveled clothing and spoke in his characteristically blunt tone.
I scrambled to my feet, feeling oddly self-conscious. I cleared my throat deliberately and held the button out toward him.
“Here. This.”
“Dispose of it. It’s of no use.”
Barcas dismissed the matter curtly and glanced toward the window. The sky had already been painted in shades of crimson by the setting sun.
He turned his gaze back to survey the chaos of the chamber, then exhaled as though exhausted.
“May I take my leave?”
I nodded without protest. He inclined his head once and departed immediately.
I listened to the sound of his footsteps receding, then hurried to the bedside and retrieved my jewelry box. I placed his button in the innermost compartment.
That night, a peculiar exhilaration robbed me of sleep. Emotions of indeterminate origin made my chest ache with an aching sweetness.
I replayed his words, his actions, the light in his eyes—again and again.
Perhaps. No. It couldn’t be. And yet… perhaps.
Scattered thoughts consumed my mind. My head felt as though it might burst. And yet, inexplicably, I smiled.
I surrendered to happiness, tossing restlessly through the night.
But the adolescent reverie shattered far sooner than I anticipated. Days later, news arrived that Barcas and Aila were betrothed.
It was as though I’d awakened from a daydream. No—it was far worse. I had soared among the clouds only to plummet violently to the earth.
I fled the Separate Palace at once and made for the Training Grounds. By noon, he would come seeking me to fulfill his duties as a Royal Guard Knight, but I could not wait until then.
Crossing half the Imperial Palace in a single breath, I burst into the vast training field where the Knights were conducting their exercises. I felt their wary gazes upon me, but in that moment, I could not bring myself to care.
I scanned urgently for the pale ash-blonde hair, only to realize that those training here were recruits, not regular Knights. I turned away. If he wasn’t at the Training Grounds, he was likely attending to administrative duties in his office.
I made my way toward the Military Affairs Office adjacent to the Training Grounds. As I’d anticipated, Barcas was in his office. Yet he did not appear to be attending to any work.
As I grasped the door handle, I heard a faint sound of weeping and froze. Through the narrow gap in the open door, I saw Barcas standing with his back to the window, and a woman with her face buried against his chest, tears streaming down her face.
Frozen by a sight she had never even imagined, the Unknown Woman lifted her head and gazed up at him with desperate eyes.
“You don’t love that woman, do you?”
Her voice was so pitiful it made his stomach churn. She clung to him desperately, as if begging for alms.
“You’re only marrying her for political reasons, aren’t you? Please, just tell me that’s true.”
His throat suddenly constricted. The fact that there existed a woman who could plead with him in such a manner struck him like a blow to the head.
She studied his face with anxious anticipation. At last, his firmly sealed lips parted.
“I fail to understand what significance my answer holds for you.”
His voice was so devoid of emotion it sent shivers down her spine.
Talia involuntarily shrank back. Barcas, his face as lifeless as a wax doll, tilted his head as if unable to comprehend, staring down at the woman.
“Whether for political reasons or otherwise, what difference does it make? I have pledged to take the First Imperial Princess as my wife, and I intend to honor that promise.”
The woman’s delicate shoulders visibly stiffened. She must be experiencing a pain as if her heart were being torn asunder.
But the man did not stop there.
“I made it clear from the beginning that I have no intention of reciprocating your feelings, regardless of what you may have expected of me.”
The color drained from the woman’s neck. Apparently unmoved by her pitiful state, he exhaled a weary sigh and continued.
“I would prefer that such awkward encounters cease henceforth. Now that our betrothal is formally established, I wish to avoid unnecessary scandal.”
The woman staggered backward before collapsing to the ground like a person drained of all strength. A flicker of annoyance crossed Barcas’s face.
I was seized by a chill at that expressionless face devoid of even a trace of sympathy. That expression, that gaze—everything about it was disturbingly, unmistakably familiar.
I hastily fled that place.
Had I been even a moment slower, it would have been I sitting there and weeping, not that woman.
The mere thought of such a scene made my blood run cold. If Barcas were to turn such a gaze upon me while I begged for his love, I might have died right there. No—I surely would have died.
And so I became genuinely afraid of him. Truly terrified of one who could drive me to death with mere words.
Naturally, my demeanor toward Barcas became even more guarded than before.
He was less a romantic interest than a natural predator. If I could not perfectly restrain these feelings, I would spend the rest of my days in unbearable torment.

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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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