SOTBW - 20

Najane stood still, staring blankly at Maximón. Had he come here often? When she had been a maid, she had visited this place sometimes as well. However, she never made it to the tree because there was no time to rest.

Najane hesitated and slowly stepped back. She didn’t want to disturb Maximón’s rest, and she hadn’t fully sorted out her complicated feelings toward him yet. After their argument in the corridor, she hadn’t had the chance to resolve it, and she had even begged him to hug her.

The more she thought about it, the more embarrassed she felt. Just as she was about to leave quietly, their eyes met.

Maximón, lying between the tree roots, stared at Najane. Startled, Najane froze for a moment. He beckoned her with a flick of his finger. Hesitating, she slowly approached him, feeling awkward.

She stood under the tree, keeping some distance from him.

“Come closer,” Maximón ordered.

Najane hesitated but took a small step toward him. He gave her an incredulous look and spoke again.

“You should come before I move.”

His tone was annoyed, and Najane walked toward him with stiff steps.

“Sit down.”

She obediently sat on the tree roots. Maximón glanced at her from the side. Fortunately, she seemed to be fine. He turned his gaze away and looked at the barley field.

“How was the fight with Serith?”

Najane thought for a moment and answered honestly.

“It was better than my first experience.”

Maximón looked at her in surprise at her unexpected comparison.

“Did it hurt?”

“Do you usually care about that?”

Najane’s voice was blunt.

Maximón lowered his gaze and muttered quietly.

“…Maybe.”

At that moment, a group of children playing in the barley field shouted cheerfully and ran past them. Thanks to their loud voices, Maximón’s response got lost. He thought to himself that it was a good thing Najane hadn’t heard his words, so he quickly changed the topic.

“How about your condition?”

“What?”

“Your… heat.”

“Oh… thanks to the commander, I’m fine.”

Najane’s cheeks flushed faintly, still embarrassed about the topic. Maximón reached out and touched her hair, which fell down to her back. Thinking of her labored breathing, he felt the urge to pull her close and kiss her.

Maximón, with his eyes half-closed, kissed the strands of her hair.

“Do you cry like that often?”

“Not always, but if it gets too intense, I sometimes—”

“How many times a day do you go into heat?”

“I’m not sure, but at least twice.”

“So, you need to have sex every other day?”

“…Probably.”

Maximón, who had been inhaling her scent, let go of her hair. Despite the lack of wind, her hair swayed, causing Najane to lower her head. Their eyes met, and in that brief moment, Maximón smiled lightly.

The smile was so faint that it was unclear if it was even a smile, but Najane was sure he had smiled. As that certainty settled in, a strange fluttering sensation stirred in her stomach.

She closed her mouth and turned her head the other way. Her neck felt slightly warm.

Could it be a cold? At that moment, the bandaged ankle started itching. Maximón’s long fingers gently tapped her injured ankle.

“Judging by the fact that you’ve walked all the way here, your ankle seems to be fine?”

Najane nodded her head.

“This... it was the commander who wrapped the bandages for me. Thank you.”

“Once you get back to the lodging, ask Didina for some medicine. You’ll likely get injured again.”

“Does the commander get injured too?”

“Of course not.”

Maximón’s confident reply made Najane admire him with innocent awe. She couldn’t understand why people were so afraid of his strength.

If someone as strong as him fought alongside her, she would feel secure and happy. But if someone asked her whether Maximón Elgort was a good person, it would be hard to give a clear answer.

Maximón was a strange person. At least that much was certain. He could be an incredibly cold and calculating adult, causing everyone to shake their heads in disbelief, but then suddenly he would turn into a child who couldn’t control himself. At times, he acted like an unrefined fighter who had never received proper training, and at other times, he showed awkward kindness as if he were just beginning to learn manners.

He wasn’t necessarily a bad person, but neither was he a good one...

Najane carefully looked down at Maximón. Every time she looked at him, their eyes would meet. She felt like she was staring too directly at his face, so she would glance away, but whenever she looked back, it was the same.

Embarrassed, she quickly blinked her eyes. She briefly focused on the tree branches, only to meet the gaze of a bird perched there.

The bird didn’t take its eyes off Najane, continuously tilting its head. At that moment, as if realizing something, Najane looked back at Maximón. Their eyes met once again.

The reason was obvious. Maximón was still looking at her.

“...Is there something on my face?”

“No.”

He answered casually, as if questioning why she would even ask such a thing.

Najane absentmindedly rubbed her cheek. She felt strange. It must be a lingering effect of her heat.

“By the way, thank you for helping me back then, in the field.”

Najane almost forgot to mention it, but then she said it to Maximón.

Maximón chuckled.

“You were whining about being dragged there because of me.”

“That was because I was angry...!”

Najane, flustered, tried to explain but quickly closed her mouth in embarrassment. She hadn’t expected Maximón to remember that. She awkwardly looked for somewhere else to focus her gaze while sitting on the tree roots, not knowing what to do.

If she turned her head just a little, Maximón’s eyes, nose, and lips would come into view. Even when he wore a damaged helmet from fighting a giant, that was how he appeared. When she had seen Maximón through the broken helmet, she had been relieved beyond measure.

Honestly, it had been terrifying. She couldn’t express it with just the word “scary.”

“...Do you think I could fight and win against the giant?”

Najane muttered softly while gazing at the barley field.

“Of course.”

Maximón answered without hesitation after hearing her voice.

His words gave Najane a small sense of courage.

“Are you really sure of that?”

“Think about the people you saved. The moment you decided to fight the giant, how noble was your resolve? Thanks to your courage, how many people faced the sun?”

Maximón fought in the field without any sense of mission, but Najane was different. If she had reluctantly become a knight to fight, she wouldn’t have dared to face the giant. Instead, she would have run away to survive.

That was a decision only someone who understood the value of sacrifice could make. A true hero’s decision, one that understood the meaning of respecting others’ lives and enduring together—something that a hypocrite like Maximón could never even imitate.

The reason Maximón had been moved to tears when he saw Najane crying silently while wearing the damaged helmet was probably because of that.

Najane, who had thrown her small body into the fray to protect others, seemed both pitiful and astonishing. Maximón felt a sense of awe as he watched her, barely standing despite being pressed by fear, refusing to collapse.

It was a feeling he had never experienced with anyone he had fought alongside before. He had always felt a sense of disgust toward weak beings. He couldn’t remember when he started to hate the weak.

It was just an instinctive dislike. He especially found it repulsive when someone weak would try to help others.

But Maximón didn’t fall into a negative judgment when he looked at Najane. Instead, he admired her purely. And he felt a certain expectation.

If I asked her to save me, would she...?

“You can definitely win.”

Maximón’s rough fingertips gently stroked Najane’s chin. She cried silently, tears flowing down her cheeks and wetting his fingers.

He wanted to comfort her, but at the same time, he found himself irritated with his own thoughts and withdrew his hand. Being with Najane stirred up contradictory emotions within him endlessly.

Najane, perhaps embarrassed by her tears, quickly wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. Returning to her usual expression, she gazed out at the distant barley field and spoke calmly.

“There must have been knights who died fighting the giants, right?”

“In Romsoa? Ha, countless numbers.”

“Do you remember them all?”

Maximón didn’t answer. That was his answer. No one remembers them.

Najane smiled softly, as if she had expected this.

“Will you tell me to live long?”

“Do you think you can live long, saying it like that?”

“Maybe...”

Maximón looked at her with wide eyes after her calm response. It was the same answer he had almost missed, drowned out by the sound of children earlier. His usually calm dark green eyes shimmered.

‘Did you care about such things?’

‘...Maybe.’

A wind blew. It was a northern wind. The scent of cold and fishiness in the air signaled that autumn was coming to an end.

The laughter of the children, carried by the wind rustling through the barley fields, reached them. But Maximón didn’t hear any of it.

Since he was a child, Maximón had tried hard to believe that he was human. He didn’t need proof. He was born as a human child, so why would he need to prove that he was human?

But as the years passed, naturally learning the flow of the seasons, he gradually understood that he was different from ordinary people.

He didn’t want to accept it, but in time, he had to admit that he might not be human. It was a fact that, like water evaporating, became inevitable with time.

So Maximón, based on the doubt “Maybe I’m not human,” came to define himself.

A monster-like strength, an absurd recovery ability, skin burning under the holy sword, seeing things others couldn’t, excessive coldness, a reasoned detachment from death happening right in front of him, cruelty to the point of killing his comrades if necessary, a complete inability to empathize with others’ joy or sorrow, and an easy hatred for strangers...

If he were not human, those things could happen. It was a comforting thought.

Maximón gave up. He couldn’t bring himself to believe he could ever be a good person. Weakness irritated and disgusted him. He found it more fortunate when the trembling child soldiers, holding weapons in front of Serith, died, thinking it was better to filter out useless beings early rather than feeling sorrow.

But when Najane fought the giant, he swung his weapon with the thought that he had to save her no matter what. At that moment, there was no one but Najane, and he hesitated not at all.

Why? He didn’t know. He just hoped Najane wouldn’t die like the common soldiers.

So, Najane...

Maybe...

Maybe I...

When the wind sweeping through the barley field ceased, Maximón had somehow seated himself, staring at Najane. Najane, who had been watching the children running with the wind, felt his gaze and turned to look at him.

As always, his face was expressionless. She met his gaze, and then, as if guilty, Maximón averted his eyes first. He stood up and quietly spoke.

“Return to the knights before it’s too late.”

In the end, Maximón never told Najane to live long.