Arthur did not answer right away.
He remained still in the side square, with the empty cart beside him and Talia Greaves a few steps away.
The low evening sun reached him from the side, and for a moment he had the distinct feeling that the light made the small differences in his face and body too visible.
“I have a moment,” he said at last.
Talia nodded and indicated with a slight gesture of her head a more secluded spot near a low wall, away from the main passage.
Arthur followed her, pushing the cart until he left it in a corner.
Every step weighed on him.
He already knew this conversation would not be ordinary.
When they stopped, Talia did not waste time.
“How many days have you been avoiding people?”
The question arrived calm, precise, without obvious accusations.
Only a statement of fact.
Arthur lowered his gaze for an instant.
“I’m not avoiding anyone.”
“Yes, you are.” Talia crossed her arms, though without assuming an aggressive air.
“In the shop you’re standing farther back than usual.
You talk little.
When someone approaches you take a step to the side.
And outside… you’re doing deliveries constantly.
Your father told my uncle yesterday.
He said that lately you volunteer.”
Arthur clenched his hands along his sides.
“It’s just work.”
Talia observed him in silence for a few seconds.
Her grey eyes slowly traveled from his face to his neck, then to his shoulders and the way the loose shirt fell over his chest.
“You’ve changed the way you dress as well,” she said.
“Looser shirts.
A jacket even when it’s not needed.
And you’re standing more hunched.”
“I’m just tired.”
“No.” Talia’s voice remained low, but firmer.
“You’re scared.
And you’re trying to hide something.”
Arthur felt his heart speed up.
The sweet scent, which he had tried to ignore all day, suddenly seemed stronger.
As if the body itself were betraying him the moment someone observed him with too much attention.
Talia tilted her head slightly.
“And there’s that scent.”
He raised his eyes with a start.
“I noticed it the first time in the shop,” she continued.
“Then in the square, when I found you sitting.
It’s not soap.
It’s not sweat.
It’s… sweet.
And it comes from you.”
Arthur opened his mouth, then closed it again.
He could not find an excuse that sounded believable.
Talia took a small step forward, reducing the distance without coming too close.
“I’m not accusing you of anything serious.
But for days you’ve been behaving like someone who’s afraid of being discovered.
And I’m not the only one who’s noticed.
Your sister is worried.
You can see it in the way she looks at you when she thinks you’re not noticing.”
The name of Tessa made his stomach tighten.
Arthur looked away toward the houses on the other side of the square.
“It’s something of mine,” he said in a low voice.
“It doesn’t involve anyone.”
“Perhaps.” Talia did not raise her tone.
“But when a person starts isolating themselves, lying about small things and reacting excessively to simple questions… sooner or later it involves those around them as well.”
Arthur felt a growing pressure in his chest.
Not only from the words.
The fabric of the shirt clung to him uncomfortably, and he had the distinct feeling that Talia was noticing more details than she said.
The slight swelling of the chest, the different line of the hips under the loose clothes, the too-smooth skin of the face and neck.
“Why do you care so much?” he asked, trying to shift the weight of the conversation.
Talia remained silent for a few seconds.
“Because I’ve known you for years,” she answered at last.
“We’re not close friends, but you’re not a stranger.
And because when someone starts shutting down in that way, there’s usually a reason.
Sometimes it’s something that can be resolved.
Sometimes not.
But pretending it doesn’t exist doesn’t help.”
Arthur gave a quiet, humorless laugh.
“It’s not something that gets resolved by talking about it.”
“Then it’s serious.”
It was not a question.
It was a conclusion.
The silence that followed was heavier than the previous ones.
Arthur could hear the beating in his ears and the skin that was too warm.
The curse, as always, reacted to the stress.
He felt the familiar tingling along his back, that subtle sensation of change he could not control.
Talia lowered her gaze slightly toward his hands, which Arthur was holding too still.
“You’re trembling.”
“It’s cold.”
“It’s not cold, Arthur.”
The way she said his name, calm and precise, made him raise his eyes again.
Talia did not seem angry.
She seemed… attentive.
As if she were putting together pieces of a picture she did not yet fully understand, but whose shape she was beginning to sense.
“You don’t have to tell me everything,” she continued.
“But stop pretending it’s nothing.
Because it isn’t.
And the more you try to hide it this way, the more obvious it becomes.”
Arthur swallowed.
“What do you want from me, then?”
Talia studied him for another moment.
“I want you to stop isolating yourself as if the world around you didn’t exist.
And I want you to know that if the situation gets worse… you’re not obliged to handle it alone just because you’ve decided that no one can understand.”
The words landed on him heavier than he expected.
For a moment the part of him that was twenty-two and the other that was Arthur overlapped in a single, uncomfortable awareness: he was losing pieces of control, and the people around him were beginning to see it.
Talia took half a step back, as if to give him space again.
“I won’t force you to talk.
But I also won’t pretend I haven’t noticed anything.”
She settled the bag on her shoulder.
“If one day you decide that pretending is no longer enough, you know where to find me.”
Arthur did not answer.
He was not capable of it.
He could still feel the tingling under the skin and the sweet scent that now, in the quiet of the square, seemed impossible to ignore.
Talia looked at him one last time, a long and measured glance, then turned and began to walk away with the same composed step as always.
Arthur remained still until he saw her disappear around the corner.
Only then did he let himself lean slightly back against the low wall and open the Status with a trembling hand.
[Name: Arthur Age: 18 Level: 1 Class: Apprentice Blacksmith (Weak) Strength: 4 Agility: 6 Endurance: 5 Magic: 3 Intelligence: 12 Dexterity: 8 Skills: – Basic Sharpening (Lv.2) – Tool Organization (Lv.3) – Excessive Shyness (Passive) [Curse: Gender Transformation – Blood of Lysara] Phase: 1/4 Progress: 59%]
It had risen by five points.
Just from a conversation.
He ran a hand over his face and closed his eyes.
Talia did not know the truth.
But she had seen enough not to let it go.
And now Arthur had the uncomfortable certainty that the time left to hide everything was growing shorter and shorter.
He took the cart again and started walking toward home, more slowly than before.
Every step reminded him that, sooner or later, pretending would no longer be enough.