The Forgotten Field Chapter 6

It had not even been half a month since she left the Taren estate and entered the imperial palace.

Her mother had been overjoyed that her daughter’s na had finally been recorded in the imperial genealogy, but Talia hated this unfamiliar place with all her heart.

And as Senevier’s attention beca entirely consud with renovating the palace, Talia’s anxiety only grew worse.

Unlike the stories her mother had told her, the imperial palace was cold and terrifying.

Sharp gazes followed her everywhere she went, and even the attendants serving her were far colder than the servants of House Taren.

She felt like a child who had lost the place she belonged.

So whenever the opportunity arose, she secretly slipped out of her room and wandered around the detached palace grounds.

She especially spent a great deal of ti near the rear gardens.

Because Senevier had ordered every flower and tree associated with the forr empress uprooted, claiming she would erase all traces of Bernadette, the gardens had been utterly devastated.

Near the entrances to the main palace and detached palace, rose bushes and brilliantly colored shrubs had gradually begun filling the empty spaces.

But in the unfinished back gardens, disorderly piles of dirt still covered the grounds.

As a result, nobody ever went there.

Whenever she grew tired of the whispering and hostile stares of others, Talia would spend hours blankly lingering in so ruined corner of the abandoned garden.

That day as well, she had escaped to the rear courtyard behind the detached palace to avoid the botherso nurse and the maid who claid she was fixing her hair while brutally scraping her scalp with a sharp comb.

Because rain had started pouring down since noon, not a single worker remained in the gardens.

Talia crouched alone in one corner of the empty grounds, staring absentmindedly at the falling rain.

How long had she been sitting there?

At so point, she heard the faint sound of whistling from sowhere nearby.

After glancing around in confusion for a mont, Talia found herself moving through the steadily falling rain as though drawn by sothing.

Toward the outer edge of the castle.

Where a massive ancient tree had stood only that morning, there was now nothing but a deep hollow pit.

Talia approached the towering mound of dirt beside it and peered downward.

A tiny bird was floundering helplessly in the mud, letting out pitiful cries.

‘Did it fall from the tree?’

It looked as though it could die at any mont.

Heavy raindrops rcilessly battered its soaked brown body, while blackish-red mud like sticky tar swallowed its frail legs and pathetic little wings.

At so point, the bird’s desperate cries weakened into faint trembling sounds.

Still kneeling there and silently watching the scene, Talia unconsciously stepped into the pit.

It was a foolish thing to do.

Even though she moved carefully, the ground — soaked through with rainwater and transford into a swamp — instantly swallowed her shoes whole.

She twisted her body, trying to pull her feet free.

Then she lost her balance and slipped directly into the mud.

Falling face-first into the filthy puddle, Talia felt muddy water seep between her lips and violently shook her head in irritation.

The green dress her nurse had newly made for her was ruined, and mud clung to her neatly braided hair.

A wave of anger surged upward.

As she pushed herself back up, she muttered a curse beneath her breath.

Why should I care about so stupid bird? I went and did sothing idiotic for no reason...

Grumbling to herself, she turned to climb back out of the pit.

Then she heard the weak cry again.

It was so faint she might not have noticed it without listening carefully, but to Talia it sounded like screaming.

In the end, she took several more steps across the black puddle.

There, subrged beneath the muddy water, she saw a miserable brown wing and a ~Nоvеl𝕚ght~ tiny limp head.

‘...Did it already die?’

When she carefully lifted the tiny bird into her hands, she felt the faint pulse of its soaked little body.

It was still alive.

Cupping the lukewarm creature carefully in both hands, she blew warm breath over it.

The limp bird weakly opened its tiny brown beak and pitifully fluttered its thin wings.

It was desperately trying to survive.

Watching it made sothing inside her chest tighten painfully.

Talia did not know what that feeling was.

She did not understand why the sight of a baby bird — abandoned by its mother, stripped of its ho, struggling helplessly in the mud and resting now in her hands — hurt her so much.

She carefully wrapped her hands around the bird and held it against the warst spot beneath her throat.

Then she stared blankly up at the steep muddy slope surrounding the pit.

The dirt had grown even softer beneath the thickening rain.

She tried taking several experintal steps, but there was no way she could walk back up.

If she wanted to escape, she would have to crawl out on all fours like an animal.

Talia bit down hard on her lip.

She could not abandon the tiny bird she had just saved.

But neither could she throw away the dignity of an imperial princess and crawl through the mud like livestock.

So she simply stood there for a long ti beneath the cold drizzle.

That was when he appeared through the pale curtain of rain drifting like mist.

A boy.

He was very tall and wore a black robe like those used by monks, with the hood pulled low over his head.

But through the white veil of rain, Talia could clearly see a pair of pale blue eyes shining coldly beneath it.

They were beautiful eyes.

“What are you doing down there?”

The blue-eyed boy bent slightly toward her as he spoke.

His voice was cold in a way that did not suit his youthful, delicate face.

Talia felt a shiver run down her spine.

At the ti, she thought it was simply because of the cold.

But now that she looked back on it, she thought perhaps she had sensed it instinctively the mont she heard his voice.

That the indifferent-faced boy looking down at her would one day drag her life into hellish suffering.

If she had fully understood the aning of that distant sensation back then, Talia would have thrown the tiny bird gasping weakly in her hands straight back into the mud and crawled out on all fours through the filth like so shaless pig.

Then she would have run far, far away from the blue-eyed boy.

She would have erased even the mory of seeing him.

But eight-year-old Talia never imagined that the boy who appeared in the rain would soday beco her despair.

So she rely glared up at him and snapped in her usual thorny tone,

“Can’t you tell? I fell into a pit and can’t get out.”

The boy’s eyes narrowed slightly.

He looked as though he wanted to ask why she had entered such a place to begin with.

But instead of questioning her, he stepped smoothly down into the pit without caring in the slightest that his finely tailored trousers and expensive leather boots were being stained with mud.

Talia stared at him in surprise.

She had never expected a boy with such a cold face — one that looked as though you could stab it and not draw a single drop of blood — to do sothing like that.

He walked steadily across the swamp-like mud toward her.

Up close, the boy seed even taller and leaner than he had from below.

He looked at least a full head taller than she was.

Crossing the mud with long graceful strides, the boy stopped in front of her and held out one hand.

“Take it.”