9.
As soon as Talia opened her eyes, she groomed herself with more care than ever before. She endured the maids’ hands in silence as they scrubbed her skin with stiff, coarse brushes until it turned red, and she bore the relentless pulling of a comb that made her scalp sting.
Once she finished dressing, she chose the velvet gown her maternal grandfather had gifted her—the same dress she had worn the day she left the Taren Family. It was the only time he had ever looked at her with anything other than cold disapproval.
She studied her reflection. A girl with a face as pretty as an angel stared back. She imagined that if Talia Roem Gwirta were turned back to the age of nine, she would look exactly like this. She stared intensely into the reflection, locking eyes with her own deep blue gaze—the color of her mother’s—and then left the room with a set jaw.
However, the boy who trained at this hour was nowhere to be found.
After giving her attendants the slip, Talia wandered the inner courtyard for a long time, her shoulders slumping in defeat. The mere thought that she might never see him again made the world dim before her eyes. She couldn’t understand why she was so fixated on a stranger she had only spoken to once.
No. She understood perfectly. On that day, amidst the pouring rain, he could have ignored a mud-caked child. But he hadn’t. Even at the cost of ruining his fine clothes and boots, he had stepped into the mire to pull her out. He had held her, shivering and soaked, in his warm arms and gazed into her eyes for a long time. He had cradled a pathetic, dying bird in his hands and carried it to his own quarters.
That alone was enough for him to become her hope.
Talia walked tirelessly along the perimeter of the buildings, which towered toward the sky. The Imperial Palace was like the belly of a giant monster; it was so vast and complex that even after months of living here, there were endless corners she had yet to discover. She roamed the garden, lush with flowers and ancient trees, before passing through a wide-open space toward the back of the Main Palace.
Her legs, which had been moving since early morning, throbbed with a rhythmic ache. With every step, the soles of her feet burned as if they had touched fire—the price of invisible blisters. She wiped sweat from her forehead and looked up at the blue sky through the dense canopy.
Just as she was straightening her spine, intending to retreat to the Annex Palace, she caught sight of a slim figure moving through the straight-growing birch trees. Talia’s eyes brightened.
Even from a distance, she recognized him instantly. That agile, elegant carriage—the way his back remained perfectly straight and his gait flowed like water—was something no one else could ever hope to imitate.
Talia hurried after him. But no matter how much she quickened her pace, the distance between them refused to close. It became clear that the boy was in a rush. Where could he be going with such urgency? She wanted to call out, but her breath came in ragged gasps, and no sound escaped her throat. In the end, he vanished.
Talia sat down, leaning her back against a tree trunk in dejection. The sunlight, sharp as needles, poured down onto her flushed face. She squinted against the glare, staring blankly through the leaves, when a faint sound of laughter drifted on the wind. It sounded like the chirping of a small bird.
Talia rose and drifted toward the source. Passing through the thicket of birch trees, she stumbled upon a beautiful flowerbed in full bloom with lavender, marigolds, and white baby’s breath. Beyond it sat a pristine white marble pavilion and a small fountain. It was a garden that felt stolen from a fairy tale.
Talia looked at the enchanting scene, where golden particles seemed to dance in the air, feeling as if she were under a spell. Then, she spotted him. The boy was kneeling on one knee before a marble bench.
He was not alone. Sitting opposite him was a lovely girl of similar age. She had silky, dark brunette hair, rosy cheeks, and a bright, animated expression. As the girl chattered incessantly, a faint smile played on the boy’s lips. Seeing that, Talia’s chest stung as if pricked by a needle. It felt as if her own private treasure had been snatched away.
Talia knew such feelings were irrational. Even at a glance, the two looked like lifelong companions. She, conversely, was nothing but a shadow.
And yet, she decided to approach them. She wanted to insert herself into that warm, private atmosphere, no matter the cost. Above all, she wanted his silvery-blue eyes and that faint, rare smile to be directed at her.
Driven by an intense, reckless impulse, she stepped from behind the bushes and approached the fountain. The boy’s gaze, followed by a pair of clear green eyes, snapped toward her.
Having never interacted with children her own age, Talia felt her mouth go dry. But she was an Imperial Princess. Surely, they wouldn’t dare refuse if she offered them her friendship. She lifted her chin, gathering her courage, and offered a polite greeting.
“Hello?”
The boy merely stared, his expression unreadable. Could he not recognize her? Since they had first met when she was covered from head to toe in filth, she reasoned that her appearance, now dressed in silk and velvet, might be foreign to him.
She started to bring up the day he had helped her, but the girl, who had been sitting with a dazed expression, suddenly let out a shrill scream.
“No! No! Not here! Anywhere but here!”
Her voice was wretched, as if she were facing a nightmare. Eyes wide with terror, the girl threw herself at the boy.
“Please, Varkas! Chase her away! Don’t let her even set foot in this place! Never let me see her again!”
Thin arms wrapped around the boy’s neck. He pulled the wailing girl into a protective embrace, his eyes fixed on Talia with a chilling, predatory glare. Talia backed away, her heart hammering.
He spoke in a low, dangerous voice.
“Get out of here. Now.”
Staring into his cold, shuttered face, Talia turned and began to run.
It felt as if ice water had been poured over her head. Her brain felt paralyzed, incapable of processing the rejection. She ran, and just as she approached the Main Palace, something gripped her hair with violent force. Her head snapped back, her body tilted, and a heavy impact slammed her into the ground.
She rolled on the grass, clutching her aching stomach.
“How dare you set foot in a place like this, you lowly thing!”
An angry, youthful voice thundered from above. Talia looked up to see a boy she had never met before. He had dark black hair and flame-like green eyes—he clearly shared a resemblance to the girl she had just seen—but she had no way of knowing when he had begun to hunt her or why he held such venom.
She was still frozen in the shock of her first physical assault when the boy kicked her in the abdomen again.
“Die!”
As the impact made her vision go white, she curled into a ball, coughing violently. The boy continued to kick her, as if she were a discarded toy.
“Die! Die! Just die!”
The shriek pierced her eardrums like a nail. His curses and violence did not stop until the servants, alerted by the commotion, came running in terror.
Talia crawled on the ground like an insect to avoid the savage blows. The boy, finally restrained by two servants, roared like a cornered beast, his chest heaving.
“Disappear from this world! You filthy Illegitimate Child!”