SOTBW - 76

The cry of a mother who had lost her child stirred up guilt in Najane’s heart. As a knight, and as a person, surviving each day in the field seemed like enough, but the thought that she had not fulfilled her role left her uneasy.

Perhaps it was because fighting the Serith beasts had slowly become second nature to her. Now, she could see how the beasts attacked and where they aimed for.

Of course, fighting against beasts, whether they were sacred beings or monsters, was extremely difficult. Everywhere she looked, corpses were scattered, and the screams of soldiers being eaten alive echoed. How could anyone feel at ease fighting in such a place?

Najane felt guilty for leaving a little bit of breathing room when she could fight more. Everyone else was risking their lives and doing their best. She didn’t rely on luck, but she felt like she was the only one oddly receiving benefits.

Honestly, if she used her sword energy, she thought she could save many more people, but the fact that she was only fighting from the rear made it feel like she was running away from her responsibilities. She didn’t want to become a hero. She was always thinking about finding Luna. It might be better to pretend not to notice someone else’s plight than to get hurt while trying to save others.

After being cursed and having her life completely changed, Najane had decided to live quietly, like a mouse. Yet, when the beasts fell over the city wall and into the knight’s courtyard, she ended up killing them. She grew anxious watching the falling beasts.

“I have to take care of the Serith before anyone gets hurt. There are only wounded soldiers here. I’m the one who has to fight. I have to, Emaydis. Maybe I learned the sword energy for this very moment.”

Standing there, recalling that day, Najane bitterly smiled. In truth, after she had defeated the beast that had crossed over the city wall, she regretted it for a while. If she had just stayed still, others would have handled it. There was no need for her to step in—there was no need for someone like her to get involved...

Yeah.

Maybe this is what it means to run away.

Many people must live with such feelings, reluctantly.

Najane felt ashamed of this. She was ashamed of herself for justifying her actions with excuses about needing to hold back to find Luna. She felt ashamed of trying to rationalize that others must live the same way. She felt ashamed in front of those who courageously died on the field. She felt ashamed in front of the mother clutching the woollen socks she wanted to send to her dead son, afraid they might get dirty.

She understood.

It wasn’t shameful to run away because of a lack of ability.

But it was shameful not to act when you could.

In truth, even though Najane regretted defeating the beast that crossed the city wall, she didn’t truly feel regret. She was glad, in a way, that she had maintained her pride by risking exposure of her true identity. Although she had abandoned living a life worthy of the honorable name “Emaydis,” she now understood the meaning of the blue barley fields, and she could no longer do shameful things.

As Najane stepped outside the main gate, the guards, noticing her approach, began to reduce the violence they had been inflicting on the woman. One by one, the guards holding their clubs stepped back. Najane knelt down to meet the woman’s gaze.

The woman had been beaten so badly that she was bleeding from her nose.

Najane took out a handkerchief and handed it to the woman. The woman, cautious, wiped her nose and then, with great care, smelled the handkerchief. It made a sniffing sound, but it also sounded as though she was sobbing due to the blood clogging her nostrils.

Unfortunately, Najane didn’t see the strange moment when the woman sniffed the handkerchief. The woman’s messy hair made it look more natural, as if she were simply wiping her blood away.

Najane hesitated before speaking gently.

“I’m sorry about your son. If you tell me his name, I’ll try my best to find out where his body is.”

The woman, clutching the handkerchief with one hand, stared at Najane. The bloodshot veins in her eyes gave off a slightly eerie feeling.

“Don’t you know my son’s name?”

The woman spoke as if accusing her. Najane lowered her gaze with an apologetic expression.

“I’m sorry. There are many soldiers, so I can’t remember everyone’s name. But there should be a record of him in the knight order. If you tell me his name...”

“Your handkerchief smells like lavender.”

The woman muttered while fiddling with the handkerchief, stained with blood and dirt.

“Surely, your maid must be washing it with expensive soap. My... my son probably ate nothing but gruel every day and slept in a dormitory without a fireplace... Do you know how he died? Did you treat him to save him?”

The woman, having let go of the handkerchief, grabbed Najane’s wrist. Najane was startled by the painful pressure on her bones, but she endured it, feeling sympathy for the woman’s face swollen from the beating. The woman, now sobbing, began to blame Najane.

“Probably, you didn’t even treat him and just abandoned him… Holy water is only used by noble people, like you knights...”

The woman’s grip on Najane’s wrist tightened with increasing force.

“…My son also defended the country. My child was a hero too. But no one will remember him, right? Who would remember my child? Who, other than me, would? You don’t even know his name, so who, who!”

The woman screamed and let go of Najane, collapsing onto the dirt floor, sobbing uncontrollably. Najane looked at the woollen socks the woman had clutched tightly, now partially slipping out from beneath her palm. She could see that the socks had stitching at the cuff, which looked like a name.

Then, as the woman wiped her tears with her dirt-caked fingers, she suddenly started laughing like a madwoman.

“I was going to give him the woollen socks... Damn winter draft. If I had known this was how it would end, I would have at least made him wear a quilted coat…”

The woman, holding the woollen socks to her chest, let out a desperate cry. Najane tried her best to comfort her, fearing the situation could worsen. She gently patted the woman’s shoulder, but the woman, her hair a tangled mess, stared at Najane with empty eyes.

The woman couldn’t accept the death of her son and was looking for someone to blame. Her bloodshot eyes glared at Najane.

“But what were you doing when my son died? Were you fighting? Why, why didn’t you save my child?”

The woman grabbed Najane’s wrist again, not letting go. The woollen socks, which she had been clutching like her last hope, slipped from her hands. Najane quickly caught them. The woman, her voice sharp, asked again.

“When my son was dying, where were you? What were you doing?”

Furious, the woman swiped her nails at Najane, but she missed and fell to the ground. Belshua, who had been watching the situation, rushed forward and shoved the woman away with his body.

Shocked, Najane dropped the helmet she had been holding at her side. She couldn’t move from the spot, not because she was too surprised, but because of Maximón. Maximón pulled her close to him and glared at the woman. His dark green eyes were filled with murderous intent.

“Who is this woman? Did Lucas send her?”

Maximón glared at the woman, who was still struggling with Belshua by the hair.

The guard quickly explained.

“She says she’s the mother of the dead young soldier. She insisted on meeting the commander, so we tried to send her away, but…”

“Bring her here.”

Maximón’s voice was cold, and it seemed he intended to harm the woman. Startled, Najane instinctively pulled his face down toward her. Maximón, suddenly looking down at her, widened his eyes.

“Commander, I…”

After briefly rolling her eyes, she put on a pained expression and held her side.

“I... actually, when I fought the sacred beings, I brushed against this area... and it started hurting more as time passed...”

Najane’s acting was awkward, but Belshua completely fell for it. Surprised by the claim that Najane was hurt, Belshua immediately rushed over. His eyes were filled with self-reproach for not noticing her injury earlier.

With her hand on her side, Najane glanced at Maximón. He briefly looked at where she claimed it hurt and then met her eyes again. It wasn’t hard to fool him with a lie like this, but it did annoy her a little.

She had pretended to be hurt because she didn’t want someone who had tried to harm her to face trouble. Though she felt disappointment and frustration whenever she thought about others, she couldn’t help but find her acting cute, and so, she reluctantly played along.

“If it hurts there, it’ll be hard to walk.”

Maximón replied casually. Najane didn’t expect him to go along with it, so she was pleased with her deception and nodded earnestly.

“I didn’t want to show that it hurt, so I’ve been holding back…”

“Oh, I see. We’ll need to call a priest. Do you think you can walk?”

“Walking...”

She was about to say she was fine, but Maximón suddenly scooped her up into his arms. Najane was shocked, but she managed to stifle her scream, knowing there were many eyes watching. Her ears turned bright red.

The guards, watching the scene like it was some kind of entertainment, lowered their gaze quickly when they were caught by Belshua’s stare. Maximón, still holding Najane in his arms, looked at Belshua and said shamelessly.

“We need to hurry back. Bathe, eat, sleep, and train; we have a lot to do.”

Maximón, still carrying Najane, crossed the main gate. Najane whispered urgently, trying to insist that she could walk on her own, but he ignored her and continued to carry her. Belshua didn’t take his eyes off her. Though Maximón would likely treat her injury, she still wasn’t happy with the situation.

The guards, left standing with the woman, looked at each other nervously and then asked Belshua.

“Excuse me, Sir. This woman is...”

“Treat her and send her back.”

“Treat her?”

It was probably what Najane had hoped for.

Belshua glanced at the woman, who had collapsed in a daze, and then crossed the main gate.

On one of the socks the woman had dropped was the name “Adeline Ross” stitched on it. Soldiers often engraved names on gloves, socks, shoes, and clothes in case they were consumed by Serith, making it hard to recover the bodies properly.

Perhaps the woman, while hoping her young son wouldn’t die, had stitched his name into the woollen socks, just in case.

Adeline. It might be a name never spoken again. It could be the most insignificant name in the entire story. But still, someone remembered it. Adeline Ross, the fourteen-year-old boy whose face was unknown.

It was probably around this time that Najane decided that, if the war with Serith ended safely, she would write everything she had experienced here into a novel. Though she had lived a life far from writing, she swore that, no matter what, even if it meant stealing records from the Knights and the Noctis Bureau, she would include the names of those who fought in the field in her story.

And one day, Najane would indeed write.

In a world where everyone could receive treatment equally.

In a world where children could freely learn what they desired.

In a world where people could love what they liked without fear.

In a world where people could make their own choices about the future, regret, and start again, without anyone else forcing them.

In a world where, without magic, extraordinary destinies and miracles could be made.

And so, when time eventually turns back, the novel written by Emaydis begins like this:

“It was a night when meteors fell.”