SOTBW - 131

“Should the woman and child inside stay here?”

“We could send them to the poorhouse, but the wife has contracted syphilis, and her condition is poor. It seems like she’s also suffering from delirium... The poorhouse definitely won’t accept them.”

The guard, who answered Najane’s question sincerely, glanced at Maximón. The rumors about his eye injury had spread widely, so the guard had assumed his condition was serious, but he appeared perfectly fine. The guard quickly lowered his gaze, trying to avoid eye contact with Maximón, and approached the man who was lying on the ground.

Najane, watching the man being dragged away by the guards while bleeding heavily, flinched at the tight grip she had on her hands.

“Don’t even think about helping those inside the house.”

Maximón preemptively drew the line, worried that Najane might try to help the woman and child. Najane smiled faintly instead of answering. It was a smile that seemed to suggest that Maximón thought too kindly of her, making her feel awkward.

“I know you’re not expecting me to take responsibility. Don’t worry, I won’t act foolishly. But...”

Najane fiddled with the pocket inside her coat.

“I’ll have to pay for the broken door.”

For a moment, Najane let go of Maximón’s hand and entered the messy house. The child was sitting next to her mother, trembling. She bent one knee and gave the child all the coins she had.

“I was going to help, but I’m sorry for breaking the door. With this, you should be able to stay at a nearby inn for a few days. If you don’t want to leave, you can buy a new door with this money.”

The child clutched the coins in both hands and slowly nodded. Najane, still looking at the unconscious woman with sympathy, carefully glanced at the child.

“...Have you ever seen someone like me around here? With dark red eyes, beautiful platinum blonde hair, and an incredibly pretty face?”

The child shook their head without answering.

“I see. Anyway, I’m really sorry for breaking the door. Don’t let the bad people take your money. Stay safe.”

Najane deliberately avoided the child’s gaze, who was staring at her, and left the house.

As she stepped outside, Luna from her dream came to mind.

‘Did you leave me again, sister?’

Luna’s words stopped Najane in her tracks. She stood in front of the place where the door used to be, biting her lip tightly.

When she was little… so young that her younger sister, who followed her everywhere, was extremely annoying, Najane had left Luna in the forest for a brief moment to have some time alone. The forest was right behind their mansion, always managed by the keepers, so there were no wild animals, and it was a nice place for a light walk.

Najane had told Luna that if she found a four-leaf clover, she would make a wish come true. Little Luna, excited, had frantically pushed through the grass with her tiny hands, singing a song. Najane, leaving her sister focused on the four-leaf clover, had returned to the mansion alone.

Finally alone, Najane secretly read books about swordsmanship, something she wasn’t supposed to do. By the time she realized it, the sun was setting. That’s when she heard the maids calling out from the garden, “Miss Luna, Miss Luna, where are you?”

Only then did Najane remember Luna. She had thought her sister would return to the mansion when she got tired of looking for the four-leaf clover, but Luna had been wandering the forest until the sun set.

Panicked, Najane ran crying to Mikael. She confessed that she had left Luna in the forest. Mikael, upon hearing the story, firmly gripped her shoulders and spoke in a colder voice than ever before.

“How could you do something like this, young lady... You’ve abandoned your only sibling. How could you do that? Did you want Luna to die? Did you want to be alone and take all of Lord Pauli’s love for yourself?”

After chastising Najane harshly, Mikael ordered the servants to search the forest. They found Luna quickly. Luna was still searching for the four-leaf clover at the edge of the forest. Covered in dirt, Luna had no idea that Najane had abandoned her there. She was upset because she couldn’t find the four-leaf clover.

“Sister, I couldn’t find the four-leaf clover... but will you still make my wish come true?”

At that moment, Maximón grabbed Najane’s hand. She reluctantly crossed the threshold to stand next to him. Maximón hurriedly urged her to leave.

Pity that cannot be taken responsibility for brings misfortune. The desire to save someone when one has no power is arrogance itself. Moreover, she couldn’t even properly manage her own body or reputation.

As long as Maximón was around, she didn’t need to fear this curse, but that also meant that Najane would have to rely on someone to survive. No matter how much her heart ached, she couldn’t help every person living a miserable life.

Shaking off her sympathy for the child, Najane brightly asked Maximón,

“I think we should visit the nearby guard post. We should see if there’s anything we can help with, and then we can return to the order around sunset. What do you think, Commander?”

“Are you concerned about the child?”

At Maximón’s question, Najane gave a slightly awkward expression.

“...Well, it’s a young child. It’s unfortunate, but there’s nothing we can do. Before entering Romsoa, I saw many children like that, so it didn’t shock me too much.”

“Najane.”

Suddenly stopping in his tracks, Maximón looked down at Najane.

“Should I believe your lie, or not? I’m debating.”

“...What?”

“But if I pretend to believe it now, I feel like it will hurt your feelings, so I can’t do that.”

Maximón smiled vaguely, as if trying to comfort her like a mischievous child.

“I’ll send the woman to a convent with a healer, and the child to an orphanage supported by nobles. Would that be acceptable?”

Najane didn’t immediately understand Maximón’s words, but slowly, her eyes widened. She stared at him with a look of disbelief, then pointed hesitantly toward the path they had just come from.

“So, you mean... those two from earlier...?”

“Yes.”

Najane blinked rapidly, then bit her lip tightly, covering her face with both hands. Had her emotions shown on her face? Had she made Maximón uncomfortable because of it?

The thought that she might have troubled Maximón with her overwhelming sympathy made it difficult for her to feel happy. She had only felt pity for the child who would have to live in that house, nothing more. She had wanted to help, but there was nothing she could do, so she had resigned herself to it, just as she always had.

Feeling guilty, she didn’t know how to react, but when her hand slowly lowered from her face, she looked up.

Maximón, seeing her, smiled softly.

“I’ll tell you this in advance. I’m not helping them because I pity them. I don’t have any sympathy for them. No matter the circumstances, that’s their life, or fate. But you, you think differently from me. You act like you know everything about the world, yet you’re too afraid to fight and don’t want to get involved. But when someone asks for help, you rush to help them because you can’t bear the guilt of turning them away. You can’t stand the feeling that you’ve done something wrong.”

It was that guilt that had dragged Najane out of her life as a maid, keeping her hidden from the world. When a body fell beyond the walls of Romsoa, Najane knew her existence could be exposed, but she drew her sword anyway because it was the right thing to do. She had regretted her actions after killing the body, but in the end, she became a knight protecting the fortress, so she could say that her choice that day was correct.

“Do you understand what I’m saying, Najane?”

Maximón withdrew his hand from Najane’s cheek, having gently caressed it.

“The reason I’m helping them is because I can’t watch your soul be destroyed over something like this.”

Maximón, who had lowered his body to her level to comfort her, straightened up.

“And also because I want you to have a good day...”

Maximón trailed off, gesturing ahead with his chin.

“If we want the guards’ help, we need to hurry. Let’s go.”

“Ah, yes!”

Najane quickly followed Maximón. As she walked behind him, her heart inexplicably pounded in her chest. Perhaps it was because she had been in the cold air for too long, but her eyelids felt warm, and she placed a hand on her forehead. She couldn’t tell if it was because of the warmth in her palms or if it was just heat from her body.

As she blinked rapidly, Najane glanced at Maximón’s hand. The large hand that was playing with his sword made her think she wanted to hold it, and sensing her feelings, Maximón turned around.

Maximón, seemingly uninterested, extended his hand, as if not wanting her to fall too far behind. Najane, hiding her joy, quickly took his hand. The moment their fingers interlocked, her heart raced so quickly it felt like it might leap out of her chest.

Najane lowered her gaze to avoid making eye contact with Maximón and walked, trying to calm herself. He’s so cool. So cool. I’ve known he’s cool for a while, but... he’s really cool.

She tightly pressed her lips together, fearing she might smile without realizing it. Her heart beat loudly in her ears. Despite her best efforts to calm herself, it was no use.

Throughout the walk toward the guard post, she took deep breaths to try and calm herself. Because of that, she didn’t notice Maximón was watching her.

Maximón, pretending to walk nonchalantly, rubbed Najane’s wrist with his thumb. Even though he was wearing gloves, Najane flinched in surprise. Noticing her cute reaction, Maximón, now sure of her feelings toward him, suppressed a silly smile by tightening his jaw.

“Have you confessed?”

Maximón pondered Daniel’s sharp question that had troubled him while looking up at the watchtower with the flag of the guard fluttering. He knew what he had to do before it was too late.

What do others call love?

What emotions must one feel to name it love?

Maximón felt like he was scooping up moist mud from a dry well and calling it water to offer to Najane. It felt like insisting that the soot that had accumulated in his empty heart for so long was love.

He feared that even though he felt love for Najane, his feelings might not fall within the universal definition of “love.” Maximón’s love was far from the kind of affection he had witnessed in others.

Even now, Maximón wanted to take Najane to a place where no one could approach. If Najane wished, he would spend eternal nights in a room without windows or doors, embracing her as the sun and moon rose and set, indifferent to time, as though only the two of them remained in the world.

Even now, he wished for Najane to forget the names of others. He wanted her to be so consumed by Maximón Elgort that she forgot her own existence, to love Maximón Elgort so much that she would never feel sadness, even if it meant becoming lonely.

He could do that.

If Najane wished for it, he could act that way at any time.

Edwin’s love for Lucas was noble and beautiful, but Maximón’s love for Najane was filthy and selfish, like refuse. Maximón could never love someone the way Edwin loved. Such a thing was impossible.

He was enraged even by the sight of Najane gazing kindly at someone else. The agony of having his love stolen numbed his rationality, and he found himself unconsciously wanting to kill that man.

If that ever happened, he would never, ever kill him cleanly. He would gouge out his eyes, regret being born a human, and flay his skin, burning it with fire until he could endure no more.

He would rip out that man’s tongue so that he could never call out Najane’s name again, crush his genitals and feed them to the hunting dogs. In the end, he would show Najane the man’s heart. If she cried upon seeing it, the body would be used as bait to trap the training dummies, but if she smiled, he would give the man a lavish funeral.

This was Maximón’s love. Was it even right to call this love? It was too treacherous to be called love. It was neither beautiful nor pure—it was despicable and revolting.

Maximón knew this. And yet, he believed this was the best he could offer. He could sever Najane’s ankle ligaments and imprison her at any time, but he endured, controlling his desires.

He hated seeing Najane cry. Just as he wished to lock her away and satisfy his desires, he could not bear her sorrow.

Thus, this contradiction was probably Maximón’s love.

Maximón decided that this hesitation, the inability to push Najane into unhappiness, was his definition of love.