The Forgotten Field - Chapter 5

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

Chapter 5
“You seem utterly incapable of grasping that there are boundaries you must not cross.”
Barcas spoke in his characteristically flat tone, yet his beautiful face had been scratched raw by patience itself, twisted into a savage grimace.
Talia twisted her arm, attempting to wrench free from his grip, but the trained knight’s iron hold was like shackles. Standing before the Crown Prince and Aila like a steadfast shield, Barcas pulled Talia closer and spat his words directly into her face.
“How much further do you intend to descend? Are you still unsatisfied even after revealing your very depths?”
“I revealed my depths?”
Talia tilted her chin high and released a sharp, mocking laugh.
“Noble Crown Prince, do you truly believe you know even the slightest thing about the depths of humanity? Don’t be so arrogant.”
She pressed herself against him, offering a seductive smile. Unlike other men who grew dazed by merely her gaze and fragrance, Barcas showed not a flicker of emotion—only weary disdain in his eyes.
Talia felt the urge to drive her carefully sharpened nails into those icy eyes every single night.
“From where you stand, I may appear very low. But there is still a long way to fall before reaching the worst.”
She met his gaze directly as she spoke. Within his eyes lurked an abyssal abyss.
This man would soon push her into that darkness. Then before I fall, I’ll at least leave long, deep scratches across their futures. It’s only fair.
Her deep blue eyes gleamed with venom and malice. A dangerous glint appeared in Barcas’s eyes as he gazed down at that wicked face. As they stared at each other with murderous intent, an achingly pitiful voice emerged from behind him.
“Barcas.”
The man who had been glaring at Talia as if to pierce her through immediately turned toward his betrothed.
Aila wore an expression so pathetic it wrung the heart of anyone who beheld it. She gently tugged at Barcas’s coat with her fingertips and spoke in a pleading voice.
“I… I’d like to change my clothes. Would you take me away from here?”
“…As you wish.”
Barcas wrapped one arm around Aila’s shoulders and turned away. As though Talia’s existence had been completely erased from his mind, he departed the Banquet Hall with his betrothed, his gaze never once glancing back over his shoulder.
Talia felt the madness that had possessed her drain away in an instant.
That void filled with despair, anguish, and jealousy. Yet even as her insides twisted with searing pain, she maintained her composure.
Talia fashioned a triumphant smile as though she had achieved victory and walked toward the Terrace where wine and food were laid out. The crowd parted before her like people avoiding something distasteful.
Unbothered, she reached for a fresh goblet with elegant grace. But before she could take even two sips, Count Serian, who had been watching their confrontation from a distance, hurried over and seized the cup from her hand.
“I suggest you leave the Banquet Hall at once.”
“Why?”
She reached toward a plate of pomegranate and spoke with composure.
“Did you not hear the First Princess command us to enjoy the banquet freely? I have not yet enjoyed myself sufficiently.”
“Your Highness’s courage is admirable, but a dangerous beast behind you is watching as though it might pounce at any moment.”
The Count gestured with his eyes toward the Crown Prince. True to his words, Gareth wore an expression as though he might draw his blade at any instant.
Thick veins bulged taut along his sun-bronzed neck, and the tightly clenched jaw muscles twitched faintly. It was clear he was barely restraining a temperament about to explode.
Under normal circumstances, she would have further provoked her brother to goad him into committing some terrible atrocity, but now she lacked the strength to do so.
Talia abandoned her bluster and placed her hand on Count Serian’s arm. They exited the Banquet Hall swiftly, at a pace that did not appear to be fleeing.
A carriage was already waiting before the Garden. As an Imperial Guard knight opened the door as if expecting her, Talia stepped onto the footboard. Just as she was about to settle into the plush seat, someone roughly shoved her body.
Talia fell to the floor and looked up. Gareth, pushing past her own guard knight and thrusting his head abruptly into the carriage, fixed her with a murderous glare.
“We are barely tolerating your existence.”
He growled and wrapped his calloused, scarred hands around her throat. Her guard knight could not bring himself to lay hands on the Crown Prince and could only shout in protest.
Gareth ignored the protesting knight and strangled her harder with both hands. Talia instinctively thrashed her legs and drove her nails into the back of her brother’s hand, where tendons stood prominent. But consumed by rage, he seemed incapable of feeling the pain.
Gareth spat his words against her ear.
“And I have endured it for so very long—bearing it, bearing it, and bearing it still.”
The Crown Prince’s vivid emerald eyes blazed like wildfire.
“So you needn’t scratch anymore, little sister. We already despise you quite thoroughly enough….”
Gareth finally released his grip and rose to his feet.
Talia wrapped both hands around her throat and drew in a violent breath. Coughing spasms made breathing difficult. Her face flushed crimson as she gasped roughly, and the Crown Prince’s sinister voice pierced her eardrums.
“Remember this. Your mother’s scheming, you filthy bastard trampling through the Imperial Palace—all of it is temporary.”
Then, with courtesy, he closed the carriage door himself and departed.
As Talia struggled to rise, she noticed two of her carefully manicured nails had broken. Blood clung viscously to the jagged edges. She caressed them with satisfaction, then murmured in a hoarse, fading voice.
“…I’ll have to grow them back.”
This time, I’d sharpen them even more keenly. Sharp enough to pierce bone.
A sound like air escaping emerged from her lips—laughter.
She didn’t even know why she was laughing.
A useless Imperial Guard knight hastily wrenched the door open to check on her safety, staring down at her with a bewildered expression. In his eyes, I must look mad. Perhaps he’s right. I’ve surely gone mad long ago.
She lay sprawled on the dark carriage floor, giggling for a long while.
* * *
The entire Imperial Palace was in turmoil. In a few days, the First Princess and the Crown Prince would depart on a pilgrimage—a rite of passage that all descendants of the great Emperor Darian, who unified all nations under one rule, must undertake upon reaching adulthood.
Ordinarily, women departed before marriage and men after turning twenty. But according to the Crown Prince’s assertion that two people born on the same day and hour should naturally receive divine blessing on the same day, preparations were made for both of them.
And to escort these two, second only to the Emperor and Empress in the Empire’s hierarchy, an elite unit of the Imperial Palace Knights was deployed. Naturally, Barcas, who held the position of Imperial Guard Commander, assumed overall command of this expedition. Thanks to this, Talia could frequently observe him moving busily about the Castle Courtyard through the Separate Palace windows.
Today too, he inspected weapons and horses, along with various travel equipment, while rain fell steadily. Talia lay draped across the windowsill, her eyes unblinking as she watched him.
Barcas lifted his head as if gauging the time, glancing at the sky. Silver threads of rain gently enveloped his face, filling her entire vision.
It had been raining just like this on the day she fell in love with him.
Talia recalled that day.

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