After that day, Talia began struggling to free herself from the love that had hardened into a long-standing habit. She had fought before to cut her feelings for him away, but never with such desperation.
She shoved the dresses he had chosen for her deep into the closet and pulled out the ones that made him frown the moment he saw them. Then, she began attending the banquets that were regularly held in the Empress's Palace.
Naturally, her escort knight, Barkas, was forced to follow her into those nights of decadent revelry.
For him, who had been raised under monastic discipline until the age of fourteen, the scenes were nothing short of despicable. It wasn't a comfortable place for Talia either. Surrounded by her mother's admirers, she was treated like a miniature version of Senevier.
They looked at Talia, the young girl who carried the Empress's face on her body, as though she were an amusing toy. Not a few among them openly displayed their interest. The way they treated her like a substitute for her mother filled her with humiliation, yet Talia pretended to enjoy the attention that poured toward her.
She wanted to show off—to Barkas.
See what you've lost. I'll become a woman more beautiful than Ayla. As beautiful as Mother.
She wanted him to see how many men desired her. Perhaps, deep inside, she was wishing that he would stop her.
But Barkas, as always, merely fulfilled his duties as a guard in silence. Whether she drank herself senseless among men, or flirted with someone twice her age, he didn't interfere in the least. His indifference only fanned the dangerous impulses that had seized her.
He's been by my side for seven years.
Couldn't he worry about me, just a little? Couldn't he try to stop me, at least once?
That childish thought clung stubbornly to the corner of her mind. She began to believe that if she completely destroyed herself, she might finally shake off this foolish lingering affection.
So she threw herself recklessly into the company of strange men. She allowed them to touch her hands, her face, her hair with admiring fingers, even when they leaned close enough for their breath to brush her neck.
It was unpleasant, the way they handled her as though she were a porcelain doll. Yet there was something oddly satisfying in the intoxicated look that filled their eyes.
At times, she felt almost exalted, as if she had become some kind of deity. When she was swept up in those moments, failing to possess Barkas seemed like a trivial matter.
She clung to that sensation. If she could just stay immersed in that intoxicating world, her childish love would surely wither and die.
She threw herself deeper into the shallow, lewd games between men and women — the teasing words, the light touches, the dangerous tug-of-war. Slowly, she grew used to it.
Then, after some time lost in those reckless days, a southern nobleman named Margus approached her.
At first, she paid him little attention. Though she went to the ballroom every evening and mingled with many men, not one had stayed in her memory.
But at some point, his name began to linger in her mind. The man had caught her attention in an oddly peculiar way.
He treated her as though she were a niece or a child—sometimes even scolding her with sincere concern. At first, Talia was annoyed by his presumptuous tone, but gradually she began to open her heart to him.
Unlike the others, who always sought a chance to touch her, he kept a respectful distance, always maintaining a friendly yet proper manner.
Not only that—he seemed to care only about making her laugh. Instead of bringing her jewels or revealing dresses, he would appear with toys or dolls, calling them "gifts." He acted like a man without any ulterior motives, and in time, Talia began to feel comfortable around him.
Perhaps he had sensed the neglected child lurking inside her heart. He slipped through her guard so easily.
And the night he shattered the trust he had built came four days before her coming-of-age ceremony.
Late in the evening, when Barkas happened to be away, the man appeared at the annex. His unannounced visit stirred suspicion at first, but his cheerful chatter and disarming grin soon melted her wariness.
"Look, Your Highness! I finally got the puzzle I told you about!" he exclaimed, holding out a large toy box with excitement.
"You can't imagine how hard I worked to get this! Even a gift for His Majesty wouldn't take this much effort!"
He raised his nose proudly, then scratched the back of his head with an awkward smile, realizing how improper it was to appear so late.
"I meant to give it to you on your birthday, but I must leave the capital tomorrow, so I dared to visit like this. Please, forgive my rudeness."
With his eyes drooping like a rain-soaked puppy, Talia sighed and shook her head.
"There's no helping it. Come in, then."
He grinned brightly and stepped inside the annex. It was the first time she had ever let anyone other than her guard or maids enter. Suddenly, the disorderly state of the place embarrassed her.
She led him past a dusty parlor she had never used and up to the study on the second floor—the neatest room apart from her bedroom. There, they unfolded a chess table and began piecing the puzzle together.
They were so absorbed that she didn't notice his knees positioned on either side of hers.
Talia focused only on joining the small pieces together to form the pointed tower of a castle.
He leaned close, helping to steady the tiny columns. At last, the tower was complete. Talia smiled, satisfied—then suddenly realized how close he was. His breath, heavy with wine, brushed against her forehead.
Uncomfortable, she shifted in her seat, though she hesitated to move abruptly and break the mood.
Turning slightly, she pretended to look for another piece in the box. Then, the man moved behind her and reached both arms around her sides, rifling through the box as if to assist her.
"Ah, here it is," he murmured.
Talia froze. His muscular arms tightened around her waist. She felt his hot, damp breath near her neck and instinctively hunched her shoulders. Fear surged in her chest, her heart pounding wildly — but strangely, no sound came from her mouth.
As he pressed closer, she finally managed to choke out words.
"L-let go… of me."
"Just a moment… Your scent is… intoxicating."
He drew in a deep breath near her shoulder.
Talia's entire body tensed. Cold sweat dampened her skin, and chills ran down her spine.
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