SOTBW - 98

When Maximón appeared with injuries to his eyes, the Romsoa Knights fell into a stunned silence, as if they had been doused with cold water. Unable to see, he stumbled along, relying entirely on Najane, and looked pitiful and frail, like an old man whose strength had completely drained. It was such a shocking sight that no one dared to show surprise, nor could they feel at ease with their sympathy.

The knights, who had come out to celebrate Maximón’s release, were left speechless when they saw the Grand Knight walking very cautiously and slowly, holding Najane’s hand. If Najane happened to let go of his hand, Maximón stood frozen in place, unable to move.

It was a sight no one had ever imagined: Maximón, unable to do anything on his own. Could he still fight Serith in this condition? If there truly was a problem with his eyes, who would guard the fortress now?

Anxiety spread like wildfire among the Romsoa knights. Maximón’s precarious state was unsettling not only for the knights but for everyone else. The rumors quickly inflated and spread throughout the Noctis Fortress. The gist of the rumor, whose origin was unclear, was that some jealous individuals who envied Maximón’s hero status had framed Nathan for murder, which led to Maximón being tortured and losing his sight.

While the citizens, already suffering from the anxiety of a potential siege of Noctis Fortress, were stirred up by these unverified rumors, they threw stones and waste at the government buildings. There were numerous rumors surrounding Maximón—some said he gained immense strength with the help of heathens, others claimed he had learned black magic, some even said he was a cannibal, and that he liked men—but regardless of these, people revered and admired him.

Maximón was the only one with the skill to cleave through the Serith Holy Sword in a single strike. He was the only person who had given even a glimmer of hope that humans could defeat the horrifying Serith, something even Taylor Elderketh couldn’t achieve. Minstrels always sang of Maximón’s feats, and those tormented by the fear instilled by Serith found brief peace by listening to his stories.

But when the tale spread that such a strong person had lost his sight due to the mistakes of the Colnux Knights and the Noctis government, public sentiment quickly boiled over. The anger of the common people, already on edge due to the growing number of outsiders in Noctis, erupted.

Of course, this wasn’t true.

But most people believed that Maximón had indeed lost his sight.

The chief posted clarifications everywhere and even gave speeches, but the people would not stop their anger until they saw Maximón walking with his eyes wide open. The Romsoa Knights tightly locked the main gate and did nothing. The training ground, usually bustling with mercenaries and young soldiers, was silent. The knights were ordered to wait in their quarters for further instructions, and the maids were given a strict gag order to not speak of anything they had seen or heard in the manor.

As soon as the maids opened the manor door, they set up a narrow, long table in the hallway and laid out food on it. No one was allowed inside the manor. The only person allowed near Maximón was Najane.

Thanks to this, everyone realized who Najane Schnicks really was to Maximón. Najane was not just a knight of Romsoa. Even in a situation where Maximón could not see, he trusted and cared for Najane so much that he wanted her by his side. She was the one person who could comfort, soothe, and control the unruly Maximón, whom even Taylor couldn’t calm down. In short, she was Maximón Elgort’s everything.

Maximón sat in a velvet-covered chair, listening attentively to the sounds around him. The rusted curtain rings made a squeaking noise as they moved in one direction. He could feel the sunlight, which had been pouring down on his face, becoming dimmer. The sound of footsteps, hurried yet careful not to make too much noise, also reached his ears.

Najane carefully adjusted the curtains, layer by layer, and then threw a few logs, thicker than her forearm, into the fireplace. When the logs hit the inside of the fireplace, they made a hollow sound and fell onto the burning fire, sending sparks flying. She dusted off the wood chips on her hands and looked around, wondering what to do next, when she noticed the table was empty.

She remembered the maids had placed food near the hallway. Worried that Maximón might be hungry, she hurried over. Just then, Maximón, who had been sitting quietly like a doll in his chair, suddenly stretched out one arm and wrapped it around Najane’s waist without warning. Her small body staggered as if caught on a thick branch.

Najane, caught by his strong grip, ended up sitting on Maximón’s thigh. Maximón, like a beast searching for a mate by scent, nuzzled Najane’s ear with his nose. Najane, shrinking her neck, ran her fingers through Maximón’s black hair.

“…Shall I bring you a mirror?”

Najane asked, fiddling with the cloth covering his eyes.

Maximón smiled bitterly.

“No need.”

He didn’t need to see it to know what condition his eyes were in. They must have changed into a horrifically unrecognizable form, so far from human. Occasionally, when he couldn’t suppress his urge to kill or when his hatred toward the general public intensified, his eye color would change in an instant, but this was the first time his eyes had stayed in such an abnormal state for so long.

Najane, gently touching Maximón’s cheek as if testing his reaction, found that despite his eyes having changed so strangely, he wasn’t particularly flustered. In fact, he seemed as though he had expected something like this to happen one day.

“You’ve experienced this before, haven’t you?”

“Not for this long, though.”

“Should I remove it? You can see now, right? At least when we’re here in the manor…”

“I can’t see.”

“…What?”

Najane asked again, flustered. Maximón didn’t respond. Growing anxious, Najane ignored Maximón’s refusal and removed the cloth covering his eyes. As the cloth slid down his prominent nose, his eyes, unusually bright, were revealed.

Najane couldn’t bring herself to look at them for long. If she kept staring, she felt as though her head would be swiftly severed by the claws of the Holy Sword. It was an instinctive fear. However, Maximón tilted his head toward her but didn’t make eye contact. His dull, milky pupils, resembling those of a decayed fish, were staring in an off direction.

Najane, trying to appear calm, waved her palm without making a sound, but there was no response. As she slowly curled her fingers, her expression twisted with sorrow. Why had this happened? No matter how much she racked her brain to recall what happened in the underground prison, she couldn’t understand. With a face full of anguish, Najane buried her face in Maximón’s chest. Then, Maximón gently slid his lips over her ear and pressed his lips to her temple, as if comforting her.

“It’s alright.”

His deep voice soothed Najane.

“I’ve been through this a few times, so I know. It will return to normal soon, so don’t worry.”

At those words, Najane, holding back tears, rubbed her eyes. The one who needed comforting wasn’t Najane, but Maximón. Struggling to keep her tears in check, Najane’s gaze fell on Maximón. Maximón had his eyes softly closed, his face showing a slight concern as if afraid she would fear his eyes.

“Cover my eyes.”

“But…”

“It’s more comfortable that way. Hurry.”

Najane fiddled with the torn cloth for a moment before standing up.

“I’ll bring a clean bandage. Please wait a moment.”

Najane hurried to the bedroom.

Maximón heard the door open and slowly opened his eyes. His oddly shiny pupils, like those of a swamp crocodile, scanned the manor carefully. It was clearly the movement of someone who could see.

He tapped the armrest with his fingers and then, looking at the window covered with several layers of curtains, gave a faint smile. It seemed to be a pleased smile. Maximón couldn’t explain anything to Najane anyway. Who would believe him if he told them that strange memories were flooding into his mind?

Even Maximón, the person involved, couldn’t be sure whether it was a memory or a delusion. He could only guess that it seemed to have something to do with Najane.

Maximón, stroking his stubbled chin, suppressed a smile. Thinking about Najane, who had desperately held him and protected him in the prison, a surge of desire rose in him. Najane was so lovable that he wanted to push his tongue into her mouth and steal her breath.

Sitting lazily in the chair, imagining Najane’s soft and slippery tongue, Maximón felt a tightness in his lower body. As he slowly opened his eyes, he gazed at the dim sunlight filtering through the billowing curtains.

Emaydis.

He had called the silver-haired beauty Emaydis. That must have been Najane’s real name. But somehow, calling her Emaydis felt strange. A shorter, more decisive name would suit her better…

“…Mydis.”

In that moment, Maximón muttered that name without realizing it. It slipped out like accidentally cracking a walnut shell, the nickname “Mydis” unexpectedly popping out.

‘Emaydis is too long. So, Mydis. From now on, call me Mydis. It’s a nickname only family can use, but you can call me that if you want.’

The image of the silver-haired woman in a beautiful dress, sweetly requesting it, flashed through Maximón’s mind. His head throbbed painfully again. Grimacing, Maximón pressed his palm to his temple.

He didn’t want to think about that woman anymore. Every time these strange memories barged into his head, it felt like his whole body was cracking. If this pain continued, his body might really break.

Maximón gritted his teeth and naturally began to think of Najane. Imagining Najane’s innocent, radiant smile, the headache miraculously eased almost immediately. As he tilted his head back, Maximón let out a long sigh. With his eyes gently closed, he heard the cautious sound of footsteps approaching. He calmly turned his head in the direction of the sound, pretending that he couldn’t see.

Najane, worried that her palm might be cold, gently rubbed it before softly caressing Maximón’s cheek. Her warm and tender hand stroked his frozen cheek. Maximón smiled purely, innocently, without malice. It was his inhuman nature, which had long made him uneasy, that allowed him to have Najane all to himself.

This place was no longer a hell filled with blue blood.

At least, for Maximón, it was his only paradise.