SOTBW - 149

“Have you ever been to the relief station?”

Belshua, who had been walking ahead, asked. Najane answered, “Never,” shaking her head. Belshua, seemingly expecting this response, said calmly,

“Whatever you see there, don’t be shocked.”

“...Don’t be shocked?”

“Yes.”

With those words, Belshua fell silent. Najane wanted to ask why she was being warned not to be shocked, but as they got closer to the relief station, the smell of blood became stronger, so she kept her mouth shut.

A pungent, foul odor, reminiscent of something that might be found on cold, frozen metal, wafted from the path leading to the relief station.

The relief station displayed large flags with a bright red background and a white cross and star, making it visible from far away. Every time the harsh northern wind howled, the flagpoles fixed to the walls creaked as if they were about to snap.

Najane glanced at the soldiers lying haphazardly on the side of the road. They were all wounded.

One soldier had his lower leg amputated, and his face was pale. His comrades sat around him, pleading with the priests to attend to their friend first.

However, the healing priests only glanced at the scene briefly, not rushing over. To be more precise, they couldn’t.

Flags bearing the emblem of the relief station fluttered in various places along the street. Najane pressed her palm to her nose and mouth.

A rotting smell permeated the air. The disgusting stench of decaying human flesh filled the space. Soldiers, gravely wounded, were lying across a road wide enough for several carriages to pass.

One soldier pressed his torn belly with his own hands to stop his intestines from spilling out, while another was pressing down the blood of a dead comrade, a blank look on his face.

A young boy soldier, barely over ten years old, was clinging to his brother’s corpse, crying and pleading for help through his tears and snot.

Countless soldiers, having received only the bare minimum of treatment, lay on the cold ground, slowly dying wrapped in cheap blankets.

If she listened closely, Najane could faintly hear the soldiers begging for their lives and priests shouting for more holy water.

Najane tried hard not to look around. The relief station was as horrific and miserable as the battlefield.

“Are you alright?”

Belshua, having slowed her pace, spoke cautiously to Najane, who was following behind. Najane, looking at Belshua, replied calmly.

“I’m fine. But we’re not there yet, right?”

“We’re almost there.”

Just then, a loud shout to move aside came from behind. A cart carrying holy water was racing toward them.

Belshua grabbed Najane’s hand and quickly pulled her to the side. The cart pulled up next to the relief station, unloading boxes of holy water before speeding back toward the cathedral.

Najane watched the snowflakes bouncing along the cart’s wheels and murmured quietly,

“...Is it always like this?”

“Today’s a bit better.”

“This is better?”

“Fewer of the holy vessels attacked last night.”

“Ah….”

Najane sighed awkwardly.

Belshua looked down at her and then continued walking, still holding her hand. Najane felt uneasy, but Belshua’s expression was so neutral and she seemed to treat her with no emotion that Najane didn’t pull her hand away.

It was because, as they got closer to the relief station, more wounded soldiers lay on the street. The soldiers were lying on the cold ground without leaving any space for Najane to step, and the priests were hurriedly passing through, making it difficult to walk carelessly.

Belshua, having visited the relief station several times, moved through the soldiers without concern, skillfully finding gaps to step. If Belshua hadn’t been holding her hand, Najane would have been unsure of what to do and would have been stumbling.

When they reached the entrance of the relief station, the heat and the distinct smell of blood rushed into her nostrils. Belshua let go of Najane’s hand and entered the station. Inside, screams echoed endlessly.

The priests hurriedly ran with blood-soaked bandages, or wrapped the bodies of deceased soldiers in cloths to carry them outside. They rushed about, holding bottles of holy water with blood-stained hands. In one corner, a few priests were kneeling, praying as they made more holy water, their faces pale and exhausted.

Najane struggled to find Amelia in the chaos of the relief station, but the place was too confusing to survey at a glance.

“There she is.”

As if reading Najane’s mind, Belshua pointed toward somewhere. Najane quickly followed Belshua’s gaze. Amelia was hunched over weakly, sitting among the wounded soldiers.

“Amelia!”

When Najane called out, Amelia, sitting awkwardly among the soldiers, quickly raised her head. When she spotted Najane and Belshua, her face flushed with emotion, and she waved her hand forcefully.

Finally reunited, Najane grabbed Amelia’s hand tightly and quickly led her out of the relief station, where the smell of blood was overwhelming.

Around the relief station, there were hastily built wooden structures and flimsy barracks that seemed barely able to block the wind. Belshua lifted the corner of a flap on one of the tents. Inside, soldiers who had become addicted to painkillers mixed with narcotics lay sprawled out in every available space.

Belshua withdrew her hand from the tent and glanced back at Najane and Amelia. Najane, standing in the open space, kept inspecting Amelia’s waist, which was wrapped in bandages.

Belshua decided to give them some space and stepped away for a while.

Amelia looked at Belshua as she moved farther away, then turned to face Najane. Najane, with a worried expression, gently touched Amelia’s hand.

“Is it a deep wound?”

Amelia nodded.

“Serith’s nails were a bit dirty, so I might have a fever for a few days, but it’s not severe. The priests said it’s not a big deal, but if it gets infected, they told me to come back.”

“Thank goodness...”

Najane sighed in relief, genuinely relieved.

Amelia looked at Najane and then lowered her head dejectedly.

“I’m sorry for worrying you.”

“Amelia...”

“I’ve been relying on your help so much, even on the field...”

“No, Amelia. Fighting alone on the field is hard. Only someone like Maximón would do that. You saw, I received Maximón’s help too. The field is a place where we all fight together.”

Najane comforted Amelia with sincerity. Hearing this, Amelia finally wiped the tears from her eyes with the back of her hand.

It had been so frightening.

When she stepped back and accidentally stepped on the hand of a dying soldier, when the severed head of someone who had been cut down by Serith rolled by her feet, when she heard a young boy soldier, probably around the age of her younger sister, screaming for his life like a wail, Amelia regretted signing the document under Maximón’s pressure.

At the time, she thought it was the best choice. She just wanted to do well. She wanted to repay the debt to Didina and the maids, and pay back the interest Maximón was covering in full...

She never underestimated fighting on the field. Still, she believed she could do it if she tried.

Just like Najane, who didn’t give up and kept trying to save people, just like how she was fulfilling her duty as a knight despite the curse, Amelia also wanted to do well.

She thought if she did well on the field, she could fight against the absurdities and misfortunes that constrained her life. But Amelia had survived thanks to Najane’s help many times, and it was only with the young soldiers that she was barely able to do her part.

Perhaps that was Amelia’s life itself—always struggling, always hard, always difficult...

“Amelia...”

Najane looked down at Amelia’s palm, which had developed blisters that had repeatedly burst. The places where she gripped the sword were full of scars. In a few months, calluses would form in those spots.

Since Najane had wielded a sword since she was young, she understood how difficult it was to fight the way one wanted. Knowing that Amelia, who had never fought anyone before, had swung her sword to strike Serith many times, Najane couldn’t help but feel a lump in her throat, overwhelmed by the sobbing cries.

It all felt like her fault.

Najane had been mentally exhausted for a long time. She thought that living like Maximón, not caring about who gets hurt and simply doing whatever she wanted, wouldn’t be so bad.

If someone pointed a finger at her, she would break it; if someone clicked their tongue at her, she would cut out their tongue; if someone gave her a dirty look, she would gouge out their eyes...

When she witnessed Maximón’s violence, she initially feared that the conviction she learned from Nellis would crumble, but she eventually realized that it was the quickest way to protect herself.

She had plenty of time to go find Amelia. The truth was, the excuse that Amelia would come to her if something happened was just that—an excuse.

Najane didn’t want to care about anything. She was simply too tired. She was so worn out that she wanted to shut herself in somewhere with no one around and do nothing.

Even if someone asked for help, she didn’t want to respond. When injustice occurred right before her eyes, she planned to ignore it. Najane just wanted to live thinking only about herself. Nellis had told her never to wield a sword for her own sake, but those words had become shackles to Najane now.

However, when she returned to the field, despite having promised herself that she would let go of the obsession to help others, she ended up using her sword for someone else.

When she realized that people were spreading ugly rumors about her, she self-flagellated, thinking that sacrificing for others meant nothing, yet when she saw a soldier in danger, she wielded her sword without hesitation.

Najane was just that kind of person. If someone feared the darkness more than she did, she would willingly stand before it. That didn’t mean she wasn’t afraid of the darkness herself.

Najane also wanted to run away. Fighting monsters, whether Serith or the Holy Relic, was always overwhelming and exhausting. But if someone had to sacrifice, it was better for her to step forward. Najane raised her sword because she believed it was the right thing to do.

She blamed and despised herself for running away from Luna. How could she ever forgive herself for that day’s actions? But she believed that if she defended the Noctis fortress, she might one day be able to meet Luna again. She would get revenge on those who had brought them to this state, and even if her identity was exposed, she believed she could preserve her position.

It was only when Najane returned to the field that she realized she couldn’t live like Maximón. It was impossible.

Najane was Najane.

The temperament she had tried so hard to change overwhelmed her like a raging wave when she saw Amelia, crying bitterly.

“...I’m sorry, Amelia.”

“Najane, why are you crying?”

When tears began to fall from Najane’s large eyes, Amelia was taken aback. She quickly embraced Najane and patted her back.

Najane, holding onto Amelia, struggled to contain her tears.

“I love the sandwiches you made for me... It was the best meal I had in Noctis...”

“Najane...”

“I didn’t tell you about the curse because I was really scared. I didn’t know I’d have to reveal it… If I could turn back time, I’d tell you my secret first.”

At those words, Amelia’s nose tingled. She took a deep breath to stop herself from crying further.

Amelia felt sorry for Najane. She knew she had acted like a child. If she truly cared about Najane, she should have understood and let it go, instead of acting so childish.

Sniffling, Amelia wiped away Najane’s tears with her hands. They looked at each other for a moment, and then both cried like fools.

“...Najane, can I ask you something?”

“Of course. Anything.”

“...What’s your relationship with that person? Are you two dating?”

At those words, Najane abruptly stopped crying. With a flustered expression, she wiped her tears away and nodded shyly.

In that moment, Amelia smiled brightly as if congratulating her, but in her heart, she resolved not to say anything to Najane.

It was Maximón who had made Amelia a soldier. In fact, she had signed the papers under Maximón’s pressure and mockery. If Najane found out...

Amelia didn’t want to make Najane, who had just started experiencing love, unhappy. She smiled even brighter and embraced Najane.

“If you like him, I like him too. No matter who he is, if you like him, then who cares? But if he treats you badly, you have to run straight to the maid’s quarters, okay? You know what I mean?”

At Amelia’s words, Najane let out a small chuckle.

“Thank you.”

At Najane’s words, Amelia barely held back her tears. As long as Najane was happy, it didn’t matter what Maximón did to her.

At least if Najane was happy by Maximón’s side…