It must have been when she was a few months away from her sixteenth birthday.
Growing anxious at the thought that she would soon become an adult, she pestered him more than usual — begging him to help her choose clothes or accessories. It was a desperate attempt to catch his attention.
Normally, Barcas, who would have ignored such demands, must have been worn out by her persistence, for this time he obediently gave his opinion.
Perhaps he had become lenient because he was thinking that in a few months, he would finally be free of her. That made her so angry she wanted to kill him.
Even so, she was desperate enough that she felt she could do anything if it would just keep Barcas tied to her side.
Because the end that had seemed like it would never come was now drawing near.
"This one—how about this dress for the coming-of-age ceremony?"
She put on a gorgeous silk dress imported from the south and leaned forward proudly before him, showing herself off.
Barcas merely cast his usual dry gaze upward. That calm, indifferent look made her face grow hotter and hotter.
He was now moving from nineteen toward twenty, and his body, which had just cast off its boyish frame, was growing firm and exuding masculine strength.
If not for those lifeless eyes, he would have looked like an angel descended from the heavens.
Talia, trying to hide her foolishly trembling heart, raised her voice deliberately.
"I asked you what you think!"
"…It looks like a child has stolen an adult's dress."
At last, his tightly closed lips opened.
She lifted the corners of her eyes. The man added, as if it were bothersome to even speak:
"It doesn't suit you at all."
Her face flushed bright red, and she glared at him. But since she was the one who had asked for his opinion, it was hard to argue back.
Glaring at him with venom in her eyes, Talia stomped her foot and turned behind the screen. She began rummaging furiously through the mountain of clothes piled up there. She was determined to make that corpse-like man blush somehow.
After quite some time, she picked out a bolder outfit — a daring dress with a neckline cut so low it was nearly scandalous. She hesitated for a moment, thinking it might be too much, but soon steeled her resolve and swiftly slipped the dress over her body.
When she looked into the mirror, a breathtakingly beautiful girl was reflected back.
She examined her appearance with satisfied eyes. Her thin body, once as frail as a birch branch, had slowly begun to change since she turned fourteen. Her once-flat chest had started to bud and was now the size of small apples, and even her hips, once narrow and straight, had begun to fill out slightly.
Talia was proud of her transformation. The thought that she was slowly approaching the perfect beauty possessed by Senevier filled her with joy.
If Barcas realized what she had become, he would surely see her differently.
Soon, she would become the most beautiful woman in the world.
Brimming with that hope, she burst out from behind the screen.
"How about this one?"
Barcas, who had been gazing idly out the window with a bored expression, turned his head toward her. For the first time, something like emotion appeared on his face — though it was far from a pleasant one.
Furrowing his brow, he looked her up and down and spoke rather curtly.
"The very first dress."
He took a deep breath and added bluntly:
"Go with that one."
His tone was dry, without a hint of admiration or excitement she had hoped for.
Still, the mere fact that he remembered the very first dress she had tried on out of dozens made her heart feel as though it would burst.
She gave him a sly, teasing smile.
"What's this? Acting all indifferent, but you must have been paying close attention after all?"
He didn't respond. Whatever the case, his only wish seemed to be that this tedious fashion show would end soon.
His insolent attitude irritated her for a moment, but Talia decided to let it go generously. She had promised herself to show him a gradually changing version of her — even if it would take time for him to notice.
Humming cheerfully, she picked up the first dress she had tried on.
It was a delicate and elegant velvet surcoat densely embroidered with elven patterns.
This dress would never leave her wardrobe for the rest of her life — because it was the one that had caught Barcas's eyes.
She quickly changed into it and stepped out, spinning gracefully before him to show it off.
"This one, right?"
He gazed at her quietly. The woman who had been whining all day now laughed like a tipsy person, and somehow, he didn't even seem to find it strange.
Perhaps to him, whether she raged like a beast or smiled like a lunatic made no difference at all.
But Talia wanted to believe that his attitude toward her had changed.
After all, those indifferent eyes of his had, at some point, begun to linger around her face for longer and longer.
That wasn't all. Even the way he spoke to her seemed gentler than before.
Sensing those subtle changes with sharp intuition, Talia felt a fragile hope stir within her chest.
Could it be that Barcas also felt reluctant to part ways with her? After spending so many long years together, perhaps even he had developed some faint affection for her.
Talia clung pitifully to that foolish hope.
"If I dance in this dress, don't you think I'll look just like the Queen of the Fairies?"
At her question, a faint crack formed between his brows.
Was he fed up with her endless questions? No — perhaps he was actually thinking about how to answer.
She decided to take it in the best possible way.
"Don't just stand there staring. Practice the dance with me."
Before he could say anything, Talia suddenly grabbed his arm and pulled him toward her.
In the past, he wouldn't have budged, but this time, he allowed himself to be dragged along reluctantly.
See? Talia felt triumphant. Something had changed.
Pulling the stiff, uncooperative man closer, she twirled around him again and again.
Then her foot caught on a trunk lying on the floor, and she lost her balance. Instinctively, Talia clutched his arm.
Barcas muttered something indistinct and hurriedly wrapped his arm around her waist.
But the room was such a mess that there was nowhere safe to step.
The piles of clothing tangled around his feet as well, and the two of them tumbled down together onto the carpet.
Talia let out a small curse.
"You should've cleaned up the room beforehand!"
Barcas, who had taken the fall trying to shield her, raised an eyebrow.
He was her escort knight, not a servant. She knew perfectly well she couldn't expect him to do trivial chores like tidying up — but she snapped at him anyway, out of sheer irritation.
"If I get a bruise on my butt, I'm not letting you off! Useless escort knight!"
Grumbling as she tried to stand, she suddenly felt a sharp sting on her scalp.
Talia looked at him in disbelief.
"Did you just pull my hair?"
A short sigh escaped his lips.
"I think your hair got caught on my sleeve button."
He lightly tugged the arm that had been wrapped behind her back to show her.
The sting at her scalp made Talia scream and hit him in the chest.
"It hurts, you idiot!"
He froze, then quietly looked down at her eyes, now hazy with moisture.
Feeling a small pang of guilt, Talia still tried to glare at him.
Letting out another faint sigh, Barcas slipped his arm behind her again.
Then, moving carefully, he began to untangle her hair.
Talia sat between his knees, her eyes darting nervously.
It was only then that she became aware of the inappropriate closeness of their position.
The faint scent of soap and mint wafting from his body made her heart pound so fiercely it felt like it might explode.
She was certain he could hear it too.
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