I, who was fidgeting with my hands awkwardly, spat out a prickly voice.
"My... If you cut off even a strand of my hair, I won't let you go."
He didn't say anything. However, he seemed to be a little more careful with his hand movements. The touch seemed to caress my hair, and I swallowed dryly.
Through the gaping collar of his shirt, I could see his thick neck and collarbone, which stood out gracefully like a bird's wing bone. I could vividly feel his supple yet strong forearms wriggling along with his movements, and I was more conscious than necessary of the fact that my long legs wrapped in woolen pants sat right next to my thighs.
I lowered my head to hide my red-hot face.
"Hey, are you not finished yet?"
How long does it take to untie the hair from the buttons? Or am I so nervous that I feel this moment unrealistically long? Sweat began to pour out of my palms.
I rubbed my hands against the pile of clothes on the floor. Then I was horrified to see the flush on the back of my wrist.
Could it be that my whole body is red? Then how ugly I look! I raised my voice nervously.
"It's enough, just hang up!"
Barcas, who had been wriggling for a long time, uncharacteristically agile and quick-witted, lowered a hand to his waistband.
I stiffened when I saw him draw his dagger. He put his arms behind my back again. I unconsciously grabbed the hem of his robe.
"Well, don't cut too much, though... my hair."
Before I could finish speaking, the slight pressure on my scalp disappeared with a thud. I turned away in a hurry, wondering what would happen if he had cut off a bunch of my hair.
Fortunately, there was no severed hair. Instead, there was a shiny golden button on the floor
I picked it up and examined it carefully. On the well-crafted buttons, the coat of arms of the Knights of Roem was engraved.
I turned my head again and looked up at him. Barcas stood up and plunged his dagger into his waistband.
"How long are you going to sit down?"
Barcas was cleaning up his messy attire and said in a blunt tone.
I slumped to my feet. For some reason, I felt awkward. I coughed and held out a button to him.
"Come on, this."
"I don't need it, so throw it away."
Barcas spat dryly and glanced out the window. Before I knew it, a red sunset was coloring the sky.
He turned his head again, looked around the mess of the room, and puffed out tiredly.
"Can I just go away?"
I nodded silently. He shook his head lightly and left the room.
I listened to his footsteps as he moved away, and then quickly ran to the side of the bed and grabbed the jewelry box. And I put his button in the innermost part of the box.
That night, I couldn't sleep because of a strange excitement. Unknown emotions made my heart ache.
I pondered over and over again his words, his actions, and the look in his eyes.
Could be... Do you know... It can't be... But maybe...
Thoughts filled my head. My brain felt like it was going to explode. Still, I laughed somehow.
I tossed and turned all night in euphoria.
However, it didn't take long for the vain fantasies of adolescence to be shattered. A few days later, the news of Barcas and Ayla's engagement came out.
It was as if I had woken up from a daydream. No, it was worse than that. For a moment, I felt like I had floated up to the clouds and then plummeted to the floor.
I ran straight out of the palace and headed for the training ground. At noon, he would come to me to fulfill his duties as a knight, but I couldn't wait until then.
I, who had crossed half of the palace in one fell swoop, rushed into the large clearing where the knights were being trained. I could feel the people who saw me casting a wary look, but I didn't care at all for that moment.
I rolled my eyes impatiently in search of the pale, glowing Ash Blonde. Then, I turned around when I realized that the people filling the training ground were not regular knights, but prospective trainees. If he wasn't at the training ground, he was likely doing office work in his office.
I walked towards the military camp located right next to the training hall. As expected, Barcas was in his office. However, it didn't seem that he was watching the affairs.
I, who was tugging at the doorknob, heard a faint cry and stopped moving. Through the gaping door, I could see Barcas, standing with his back to the window, and a woman crying, her face buried in his chest.
Frozen by a sight I had never imagined, the mysterious woman looked up at him with a desperate look.
"You don't love me, do you?"
Her voice was so pathetic that I felt sick. The woman clung to him desperately, as if she were begging.
"You're just marrying me for political reasons. Please, tell me so."
Suddenly, my throat tightened. The fact that there was a woman who could beg him in such a way made me feel like I had been hit in the head.
She studied his face with Impatience. Finally, the lips that had been tightly closed opened.
"I don't know what my answer means to you."
His voice was so dry that I shuddered.
I shrugged my shoulders involuntarily. Barcas, staring down at the woman with a lifeless wax figure, tilted his head in disunderstanding.
"Whether it's for political reasons or not, what's the difference? I have made a pact to take Your Royal Highness, the First Princess, as my wife, and I intend to fulfill that promise."
The woman's slender back became noticeably stiffer. Perhaps she feels a heart-pounding pain.
But the man didn't stop there.
"I don't know what you expected from me, but I made it clear from the beginning that I had no intention of responding to your heart."
Blood dripped from the nape of the woman's neck. He added with a tired sigh.
"I don't want to have such a tough encounter in the future. Now that we're officially engaged, I want to avoid unnecessary scandals."
The woman staggered backwards and slumped down like a weakened person. A hint of annoyance flashed over Barcas's face.
I got goosebumps on his numb face, which had no sympathy at all. His expression, his eyes... Everything was eerily familiar.
I hurriedly left.
If I had been a little faster, it would have been me who sat there and sobbed, not her.
Just imagining the scene made me feel sorry for myself. If Barcas had given me such a look as I was begging for love, I might have died on the spot. Do you know... I must have died.
Because of this, I was genuinely afraid of him. I was genuinely afraid that he could kill me with a few words.
Naturally, my attitude toward Barcas became more defensive than before.
He was more of a natural enemy than an object of unrequited love. If I cannot control my mind completely, I will live in terrible pain in the future.
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