SOTBW - 52

Maximón paced nervously in front of the fireplace.

He had never cared much about anyone other than Edwin, so the idea of having to make a good impression on someone else felt awkward. More than that, the effort to win the favor of a woman was entirely unnatural to him.

Maximón, by default, possessed a face so striking that he had never needed to try to earn the admiration of others. Of course, just as many people had been drawn to his beauty, only to flee in terror after witnessing his intimidating aura.

Edwin had always been pleased with Maximón’s accomplishments at Noctis Fortress.

Even when Maximón occasionally performed outrageous acts—such as executing deserters in front of young recruits or cutting off the wrist of a maid caught stealing from the knights’ quarters and displaying it in her workplace—Edwin had tried to understand as long as Maximón fulfilled his duty as a member of the Elgort family.

But Najane...

Maximón thought of how much Najane despised killing, her aversion to violence etched deeply in his memory. He knew that simply vowing not to kill anyone wouldn’t be enough to earn her praise.

After all, for most people, refraining from murder was the bare minimum.

Maximón was willing to do anything to monopolize Najane’s affection and attention, but he also understood that no matter how much he gave or exposed his vulnerabilities, it might not be enough to win her heart.

Hadn’t he already learned this through Edwin? To completely own someone’s love, you had to become their entire world. If he failed to create a situation where Najane would cling to and depend on him, he would fail once more, just as he had failed to become Edwin’s top priority.

Maximón stared at the hallway leading to the connected rooms, lost in thought about what might please her. He heard the faint sound of wet footsteps. Quickly, he composed himself, masking his anxiety.

Najane appeared, rubbing her damp hair with a towel as she entered the sitting room. When she saw Maximón, she hesitated.

Their eyes met, and Maximón was the first to look away. Fixing his gaze on the smooth, polished wooden floor, he spoke carefully.

“…Can we talk for a moment?”

His tone was as gentlemanly as possible, hoping for a favorable response.

Najane stood by the arched doorway, looking at him silently. Despite the sunlight pouring through the tall windows and illuminating the space, Maximón couldn’t discern what she was thinking.

Feeling uneasy at her silence, he moved a chair closer to the fireplace and gestured for her to sit, refraining from urging her aloud.

After a moment, Najane slowly walked over, her steps measured. The scent of her freshly bathed skin, warm and fragrant, reached him as she moved. Maximón watched her cautiously lower herself into the chair, and he quickly fetched a footrest from beside the fireplace, placing it beneath her feet.

Najane didn’t say a word as Maximón slipped off her slightly worn shoes and gently placed her feet on the footrest.

Remaining on one knee, Maximón gazed up at her.

Her long, dark lashes curled perfectly upward. Her deep, ruby-like eyes shimmered like the moonlit night. Her eyelids, slightly hollowed, accentuated the elegance of her features. Her small nose was straight without any curve, and her slightly raised upper lip lent her a subtle charm. Her white skin glowed in the morning sunlight, and the bathrobe she wore revealed a slender collarbone beneath its neatly tied sash.

Had she always been this beautiful?

He found himself recalling the first night they had shared a bed. On that night, illuminated by the flickering light from the fortress walls, she had seemed a little special, though her appearance had been too plain to consider her a great beauty.

Now, however, he found it hard to believe this radiant figure before him was the same Najane Schnicks.

Maximón stared at her as though seeing sunlight streaming through leaves for the first time, like a boy discovering summer’s glow. He wondered if this was what it would feel like to stand by the sea for the first time, with foam brushing against his ankles on a sandy shore.

The words he had planned to say slipped from his mind entirely. A wave of indescribable tenderness poured over him, soft and warm as flowing water. It was a feeling he had never experienced before, one that engulfed him entirely.

It wasn’t the same as what he felt for Edwin. At the very least, he had never looked at Edwin with such an expression.

Maximón hesitantly reached out to touch Najane’s fingers resting on the armrest. To his relief, she didn’t pull away. He lifted her hand gently, intending to kiss her knuckles, but instead rested his cheek lightly against the back of her hand.

“I missed you.”

The words escaped him, unintended and unplanned. He didn’t even know why he had said them. Like a dog nervously watching its owner, he looked up at her for a reaction.

Najane slowly withdrew her hand from his grasp.

“Those words don’t seem fitting for someone who locked me up here.”

Her voice wasn’t as cold as Maximón had feared, but it was far from warm. Panicking slightly, Maximón dropped to both knees, looking up at her with a desperate expression.

“I’m sorry,” he said hastily.

“I didn’t know how to hold onto you.”

He tried desperately to meet Najane’s gaze. At that moment, the only thought dominating Maximón’s mind was the need to monopolize Najane’s attention, no matter the means. For that goal, he could grovel even lower.

Compared to enduring the agony of pretending to be the dutiful son for Edwin’s sake, this was far easier.

People often thought Maximón was immensely prideful, but in truth, he had little sense of pride. He had no sense of dignity as a human being, so pride was meaningless to him.

Moreover, Edwin was a person without any vulnerabilities. As generous and gentle as he was, he had no psychological or political weaknesses. If Edwin had been mentally frail, he would never have accepted the inhumane acts Maximón had committed since childhood; he would have cast him out.

In that sense, Najane, who was more emotionally vulnerable, was an easy prey for Maximón.

Deliberately, Maximón spoke with desperation.

“Romsoa needs you.”

He cautiously took her hand, hoping she wouldn’t pull away again.

“And you need me too, don’t you?”

Like a prey begging its predator for one chance at life, Maximón murmured in a shaky voice.

“You said you didn’t run away. You said those men dragged you off, that you didn’t willingly get into that carriage…”

“It’s true that, while trapped here, I wanted to escape,” Najane said softly, her tone holding a faint trace of amusement.

Maximón’s heart sank at her words, and he panicked, gripping her hand tightly. Then he lightly pressed his lips to the rose-scented back of her hand.

Contrary to what she expected, Najane found herself faintly surprised by Maximón’s unusually submissive demeanor. She tried to remain indifferent, but her gaze betrayed her surprise as she observed him. His normally dark and ominous eyes now shimmered with an unfamiliar vulnerability.

Maximón Elgort, the man who always carried a grim aura, now looked uncertain, casting hesitant glances her way, unsure of himself.

Najane worked hard to suppress her expression. Thanks to her efforts, her face grew colder. Maximón looked up at her like a penitent receiving baptism, then bowed his head, resting it on her lap.

“I don’t know what it means to care for or love someone.”

Maximón murmured quietly. At that moment, he felt her hand brush lightly against the back of his neck, as though testing the waters. Najane’s fingers gently stroked his hair, like one would pet a dog. It felt like the touch of a spring breeze. Only then did Maximón feel at ease.

Perhaps Maximón would never truly understand what it meant to love someone.

And even if he did, he might never acknowledge it. In the future, if he needed someone, he would keep them by his side. If they became unnecessary, he would discard them. That was his nature.

However, when Najane appeared flustered at his sudden vulnerability, Maximón felt a strange sense of relief and joy.

He found solace in the fact that he wasn’t shaken by seeing her distressed, and her emotional reaction reassured him that he held significant meaning to her.

You’re the kind of person who laughs and cries because of what I say.

Surely, there must have been others before Najane who were swayed by Maximón’s every action. But back then, it hadn’t meant anything to him. It was only because it was Najane that it mattered. Only her.

“I know. I’m a strange bastard. I get it. But try to understand me, Najane. No, actually… it’s fine if you don’t. You’re the only one who’s allowed to call me a monster. Just stay with me. I can be a better person because of you. I’ll act the way you want me to. I promise not to do anything you hate.”

Being with Najane made him feel like an ordinary person.

Someone burdened by life, running blindly forward without knowing where to go… weak and foolish.

Surely, this was how most people lived their daily lives. Whenever they faced challenges, they must have endured by reminiscing on moments of fleeting happiness, like clutching a bouquet of flowers in their arms.

For Maximón, Najane was that bouquet.

He buried his face in her lap, like a baby bird nestling into its mother’s embrace, before slowly raising his head. Najane met his gaze briefly, then lowered her eyes. Clasping her hands together, she spoke quietly.

“While I was trapped here, I thought a lot about everything that happened. About why I was so emotional toward you, Commander. I had resolved to rely on no one, to endure everything on my own, and yet, somehow, I found myself expecting so much from you.”

Her tone was calm and plain, but her thoughts were far from serene.

Don’t let Maximón’s actions affect you so much. If he’s deliberately trying to hurt me, let him. Just let him do as he pleases.

In truth, even back then, she would wait in that small room, where pale yellow sunlight seeped faintly through drawn curtains, for Maximón to casually knock and enter. She’d lie curled up under the blanket, like a rabbit burrowing into a dark, damp warren, and stare at the shabby door.

She clutched the cold blanket, which carried the scent of winter winds and sunshine, as if it were the hem of Maximón’s coat. Sleep would finally overtake her, exhausted, until she drifted off entirely.

Over and over and over again, she tossed and turned, pretending not to, all the while thinking of Maximón. That thought scared her a little.

No—if she were honest, it terrified her. She feared that she might spend the rest of her life wandering sleepless nights, thinking only of this man.

“As you may already know, everything was new to me. All of it. I had no experience, I was clumsy, and so foolish. I didn’t know where my feelings were going or what I wanted, and I acted without understanding myself. But I won’t let that happen anymore.”

“Najane.”

Maximón called out to her with desperation.

Najane, maintaining a composed expression, continued speaking.

“Calm down. I’m not saying I’m leaving Romsoa. I plan to stay here for the time being. I just mean that I won’t act the way I used to—like a naïve teenage girl. Our relationship won’t change much, so you don’t need to worry.”

“So, you’re saying I’m still necessary to you?”

“As you know, there’s still the curse to resolve, and also…”

Trailing off, Najane hesitated, worried that the conversation might take a turn she didn’t intend. She quickly added, “For now, this place is the safest for me.”