28.
It must have been a few months before her sixteenth birthday.
Anxious about her coming adulthood, she had been pestering him more than usual, nagging him to pick out clothes or accessories. It was a pathetic attempt to command his attention.
Even Varkas, who would normally have ignored such demands, must have grown weary of her persistent badgering, for he offered his opinions quite compliantly. Perhaps he had grown generous at the thought that he would soon be free of her. It made her want to kill him; he was so infuriating. And yet, she felt a sense of desperation, as if she would do anything to keep Varkas by her side.
Because the end, which had once felt like an eternity away, was finally approaching.
“How is this one? For the dress to wear to the Coming-of-age Ceremony?”
She had donned a flamboyant silk dress imported from the south and thrust her upper body toward him, as if showing it off.
Varkas merely cast his usual dry gaze upon her. Her face grew increasingly hot under that calm stare.
He was nearing twenty now, and his body—having shed the last traces of boyhood—had firmed up, beginning to exude a raw, masculine charm. If not for those eyes, as indifferent as a dead man’s, he would have looked like an angel descended from the heavens.
To hide her foolishly thumping heart, Talia intentionally raised her voice.
“I’m asking what you think!”
“……It looks like a child stole an adult’s clothes to wear.”
Finally, his firmly pressed lips parted.
She narrowed her eyes at him. The man added, as if annoyed, “It doesn’t suit you at all.”
Her face flushed crimson as she glared at him. But since it was she who had sought the opinion of this blunt man, it was hard to argue back.
Staring at him with venomous eyes, Talia stomped her feet and retreated behind the screen. Then, she began rummaging wildly through the mountainous piles of clothes. She was determined to make that corpse-like man blush.
After a while, she picked out a more daring dress. It was a scandalous piece with a neckline so low it was precarious. Talia hesitated, wondering if it was a bit too much, but she soon hardened her resolve and quickly slipped into it. Looking into the mirror, a breathtakingly beautiful girl was reflected back.
She scrutinized her reflection with a satisfied gaze. The body that had once been as thin as a birch tree had begun to transform at fourteen. Her flat chest had begun to bud, swelling to the size of apples, and her once-flat hips had begun to fill out.
Talia was quite proud of her changes. She felt buoyed by the thought that she was approaching the perfection of beauty that Talia Roem Gwirta possessed. If he knew what she had to offer, Varkas would change his mind. She would soon be the most beautiful woman in the world.
Flooded with hope, she bounded out from behind the screen.
“How about this?”
Varkas, who had been gazing out the window with a look of boredom, turned his head toward her. At long last, something resembling emotion appeared on his face. However, it was not a particularly positive one.
Frowning, Varkas swept his gaze over her and spoke rather impatiently.
“The very first dress.”
Taking a deep breath, he added bluntly, “Wear that one.”
It was a dry voice, devoid of the admiration or agitation she had expected. But for Talia, the fact that he remembered the very first item out of the dozens she had paraded before him made her heart feel as if it would burst.
She gave him a coy, knowing smile.
“What’s this? You acted like you didn’t care, yet… it seems you were watching closely?”
He made no reply. Whatever the case, he simply looked as if he wished for this tedious demonstration to end.
His insolent attitude piqued her spite for a moment, but Talia decided to be generous and let it slide. After all, had she not promised herself that even if he couldn’t change his attitude immediately, she would show him how she was changing, little by little?
Humming a tune, Talia took out the very first dress.
It was a delicate and elegant velvet surcoat, densely embroidered with patterns from the fairy folk. This garment would never leave her wardrobe for as long as she lived. After all, it had caught Varkas’s eye.
She quickly changed and came out, spinning around in front of him.
“Is it this one?”
He watched her quietly. He did not seem to find it strange that the woman who had been throwing a tantrum all day was suddenly giggling like someone drunk. Perhaps it made no difference to him whether she thrashed about like a monster or simpered like a madwoman.
But Talia wanted to believe that his attitude toward her had changed.
And it was true—at some point, his gaze, which had always been indifferent, had begun to linger around her face for longer periods. That was not all. His tone when speaking to her also seemed softer than before.
Sensitively picking up on that subtle change, Talia felt a sliver of hope stirring within her chest.
Could it be that Varkas, too, felt a sense of regret at the prospect of parting with her? Having spent such a long time together, perhaps he had grown fond of her, even if it was just out of habit. Talia clung desperately to such futile hope.
“If I wear this and dance, I’ll look just like a fairy queen, won’t I?”
At her question, a line formed between his brows.
Was he fed up with her endless questions? No. Perhaps he was actually thinking of an answer. She decided to look at it in a positive light.
“Don’t just stand there like a statue, practice with me.”
Before he could respond, Talia grabbed his arm and pulled. The man, who would not have budged an inch in the past, let himself be dragged along as if he had no choice.
See? Talia felt triumphant. Something had changed, after all.
She pulled the man, who was acting stiff as if he had no intention of cooperating, even harder, spinning around in circles. Then, her foot caught on a chest placed on the floor, and she lost her balance. Talia instinctively grabbed his arm.
Varkas, uttering something unintelligible, hurriedly wrapped his arms around her waist.
But the room was such a mess that there was nowhere proper to plant his feet. The chaotic pile of clothes snagged even his ankles, and they both tumbled down onto the carpet in a tangle. Talia let out a small curse.
“You should have cleaned the room properly like I told you!”
Varkas, who had met with disaster while trying to catch her, raised one eyebrow. He was a knight, not a servant. She could not force such menial tasks as tidying upon him. Even though she knew this perfectly well, Talia vented her frustration anyway.
“If I’ve bruised my hip, I won’t let you off! You good-for-nothing bodyguard!”
As she grumbled and tried to push herself up, she felt a sharp, stinging pain in her scalp. Talia glared at him in disbelief.
“Did you just pull my hair?”
A short sigh escaped his lips.
“It appears your hair is caught in the button of my sleeve.”
He then gently pulled his arm, which he had wrapped behind her back, toward the front.
As the stinging pain flared again in her scalp, Talia screamed and struck his chest.
“It hurts, you idiot!”
He ceased his movements and looked down quietly at her eyes, which were misting over. Though she felt a pang of guilt deep down, Talia intentionally glared at him.
Exhaling another low sigh, Varkas wrapped his arm behind her back once more. Then, he began to move his hands cautiously, as if trying to untangle her hair.
Talia sat between his knees, her eyes darting about anxiously. It was only then that she realized the impropriety of their distance and their posture.
Her heart began to race violently, as if it might explode, fueled by the faint scent of soap and peppermint radiating from his body. She felt as though the sound of it must be audible to Varkas’s ears as well.