Awkwardly fidgeting with her hands, Talia let out a rough, scratchy voice.
"If… if you snap even a single strand of my hair, I won't let you off."
He gave no reply.
But his movements seemed to grow a little more careful.
His fingers moved so gently it felt almost as though he were caressing her hair, and Talia swallowed hard.
Through the open collar of his shirt, she could see his thick throat and the elegant collarbones jutting out like the wings of a bird.
The flex of his strong yet supple forearm was vividly felt as his hand moved, and the long legs wrapped in woolen trousers resting right beside her own thighs made her acutely, unnecessarily aware of him.
Talia bowed her head low to hide her burning red face.
"Is… is it taking that long?"
Could it really take so much time just to untangle a strand of hair caught on a button?
Or was it that her own nervousness was stretching this moment into something unrealistically long?
Sweat began to bead in her palms.
She rubbed her hand against the heap of clothes scattered on the floor.
Then, catching sight of the blush creeping all the way up to her inner wrist, she gasped in alarm.
Surely her entire body hadn't turned red, had it?
How ridiculous must she look if it had?
Her voice rose sharply, driven by nerves.
"That's enough—just cut it off already!"
Barcas, who was usually swift and precise in everything, fumbled uncharacteristically for a while before lowering one hand to his belt.
She froze as she saw him draw a dagger.
Then he reached his arm behind her again.
Talia, unconsciously, clutched tightly at the fabric of his clothes.
"S-still, don't cut too much—my hair…"
Before she could even finish speaking, there was a small snip sound, and the faint pressure tugging at her scalp disappeared.
Talia spun around hastily, fearing he might have chopped off an entire lock of her hair.
Thankfully, no severed tress lay anywhere.
Instead, there on the floor lay a single glittering golden button.
She picked it up and examined it closely.
The finely crafted button was engraved with the emblem of the Roem Knights.
Turning her head again, she looked up at him.
Barcas was already standing, sliding his dagger back into its sheath.
"How long do you plan to sit there?"
While straightening his disheveled uniform, Barcas spoke in his usual curt tone.
Talia rose to her feet hesitantly.
For some reason, everything suddenly felt awkward.
Trying to hide her embarrassment, she cleared her throat and held the button out toward him.
"Here, take this."
"I don't need it. Throw it away."
Barcas replied indifferently and cast a glance out the window.
The sky outside had already turned crimson with sunset.
He turned again, scanning the chaotic room with weary eyes before speaking tiredly.
"May I be dismissed now?"
Talia nodded without protest.
He gave a brief nod in return and immediately left the room.
Listening quietly to the sound of his footsteps fading away, Talia hurried to the bedside and pulled out her jewelry box.
Opening it, she tucked his button deep into the innermost corner.
That night, she couldn't sleep—her chest throbbed with a strange, fluttering excitement.
Unfathomable emotions left her heart aching.
Over and over again, she replayed his words, his gestures, his gaze in her mind.
Maybe.
No, impossible.
But maybe…
A jumble of tangled thoughts filled her head until it felt like it would burst.
Even so, she couldn't stop smiling.
Soaked in a blissful mood, she tossed and turned all night.
But it didn't take long for that adolescent, foolish daydream to shatter into pieces.
A few days later, news arrived — the announcement of Barcas and Ayla's engagement.
It was like waking from a white daydream.
No — worse than that.
It felt as though she had been soaring high among the clouds, only to be hurled down to the ground in an instant.
Talia burst out of the annex and ran toward the training grounds.
At noon, he would come to find her to fulfill his duties as a royal guard — but she couldn't wait that long.
She crossed half the Imperial Palace in a single breath and barged into the wide open yard where the knights were training.
She could feel the wary gazes of those who noticed her intrusion, but she didn't care in the slightest.
Talia's eyes darted frantically, searching for the faintly gleaming ash-blonde hair.
Then she realized — the ones training here were not full knights, but trainee recruits.
If he wasn't in the training yard, then he was most likely at his office, dealing with paperwork.
She turned on her heel and headed toward the administrative office right beside the training grounds.
As expected, Barcas was inside — but he didn't seem to be working.
As she reached for the doorknob, Talia froze at the sound of a faint sob.
Through the narrow gap of the door left ajar, she could see Barcas standing with his back to the window — and a woman, her face buried against his chest, sobbing softly.
She stood frozen at the sight — a scene she had never once imagined.
Then, the unknown woman lifted her head, gazing up at him with desperate eyes.
"You don't love that woman, do you?"
The woman's voice trembled pitifully, to the point of making one's stomach twist.
Clinging to him as though begging for her life, she pleaded desperately.
"You're only marrying her for political reasons, aren't you? Please… tell me that's true."
Talia felt her throat constrict.
Just realizing that such a woman even existed — someone who could speak to him like that — was like being struck on the head.
She anxiously studied his face.
At last, his tightly closed lips parted.
"I fail to see what meaning my answer could possibly have for you."
His voice was so dry it sent a chill down her spine.
Talia involuntarily flinched.
Barcas looked down at the woman blankly, his face expressionless as a wax doll's, and tilted his head slightly as if in mild confusion.
"Whether it's for political reasons or not — what difference does it make?
I have promised to take the First Princess as my wife, and I intend to fulfill that promise."
The woman's frail back stiffened visibly.
She was likely feeling pain as though her heart were being torn apart.
But Barcas did not stop there.
"I don't know what you expected of me, but I made it clear from the beginning — I have no intention of returning your feelings."
The color drained from the woman's neck.
Without a trace of pity, he sighed tiredly and added:
"I would prefer that we avoid such uncomfortable meetings from now on. Now that the engagement has been made official, I'd rather not invite unnecessary rumors."
The woman stumbled backward, then collapsed weakly to the floor as if her strength had left her.
A fleeting expression of irritation passed across Barcas's face.
There was not even a flicker of sympathy in that emotionless face.
That expression, that gaze… everything about it was chillingly familiar.
Talia fled the place in haste.
Had she arrived only moments earlier, it might have been her instead of that woman sitting there, sobbing in humiliation.
Just imagining that possibility made her skin crawl.
If she had ever begged for love like that — and if Barcas had looked at her with those same eyes — she would have died on the spot.
No — she certainly would have.
And so, Talia found herself truly afraid of him.
The thought that a few simple words from him could drive her to death terrified her to the core.
Naturally, her attitude toward Barcas became more guarded than ever before.
He was no longer the object of her affection — he was closer to her natural enemy.
Unless she could completely suppress these feelings, she would live out her days in nothing but excruciating pain.
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