SOTBW - 172

Maximón finally noticed that the silver-haired woman’s eyes were purple.

“I hadn’t thought of that.”

As though he had received a good suggestion, Maximón folded the portrait again. Najane, staring at the four-folded paper, asked in confusion.

“So, who is this person? Why were you carrying her around in your heart?”

“I thought this woman was you.”

Najane laughed foolishly at Maximón’s answer.

“There’s not a single resemblance, though. I’m not ugly, but I wouldn’t call myself that pretty... My hair and eyes are completely different...”

“You’re beautiful.”

Maximón’s response was quick and calm, as if he didn’t understand why Najane would say such a thing.

Najane, trying to change the subject, suddenly became flustered when she noticed Maximón looking at her with a very serious expression. She nervously bit her lips.

Maximón gently pressed his thumb to her small bitten lips, signaling her not to bite them. Then he proceeded to softly caress her forehead, eyebrows, and nose one by one.

“Your round and wide forehead is beautiful, and your thick eyebrows and nose bridge fit your face so well. Your eyelashes curl inwards, which makes you so cute when you blink... Your cheeks are clean without freckles or blemishes... Your lips are small, but when you smile, they open wide.”

Maximón smiled faintly as he withdrew his hand after carefully touching her small face.

“I’ve never seen anyone smile as joyfully as you do.”

He smiled at her for a moment before his expression slowly hardened.

“...How could I have done something like this when I love you so much? If you disappear, the pain will be mine. What am I supposed to do...?”

The once-dried emerald eyes filled with tears again. Maximón buried his face in Najane’s small hand. Tears fell down his rough palms, worn from wielding a sword.

“I’ll find a way to save you, Najane.”

“Maximón...”

“I’ll do whatever it takes to save you...”

Maximón’s voice was filled with fear and sorrow. Without saying a word, Najane pulled him into an embrace. The way she gently stroked his neck was full of comfort. Overcome with emotion, Maximón tightly held Najane’s body. At that moment, it was all he could do for her.

________________________________________

Boris looked around Gwyneth’s bedroom. Without a fireplace, the air felt frozen, but once Gwyneth placed a flame on the table, the room quickly warmed up.

Boris, lowering his round glasses beneath his nose, looked at the floating flame on the table with wide eyes as if it were something magical. Gwyneth, after checking the room for any missing items or thefts, glanced at Boris as he played with the flame.

Boris, amazed that he could put his hand into the flame without being burned, grinned like a child. When he noticed Gwyneth’s gaze, he quickly straightened up.

“This place will be better than staying in the cathedral. If you stay there, the priests will bother you all day.”

“Thank you for your consideration.”

“By the way, you’ve gotten much sharper since we last met. Oh, would you like some tea? I happened to bring some honey.”

Gwyneth placed the teapot on the flame, and soon steam rose. He handed Boris a cup of tea with plenty of honey. Boris, delighted by the sweet honey scent, eagerly waited for Gwyneth to take the first sip.

It seemed that Boris had learned proper etiquette while staying with the pope. Gwyneth took a sip of the tea to make Boris feel at ease.

Boris blew on the steaming tea and then drank the sweet tea. The steam fogged up his large round glasses. The strong honey flavor seemed to please him, and a smile appeared on Boris’s face.

Gwyneth watched Boris drinking the tea with a satisfied expression, then spoke with a concerned voice.

“Starting tomorrow, you’ll have to go to the relief center and help people. There will be soldiers with serious injuries, enough to give you nightmares. So, prepare yourself mentally. If the treatment becomes too much, ask the priests for help. Do you understand?”

“Yes, I will keep that in mind.”

Noticing that Gwyneth was worried, Boris answered cheerfully. Relieved by his positive response, Gwyneth set the teacup down and smiled gently.

“So, what was Najane’s body like? Do you think you could heal him with your divine power?”

“Oh, uh, you’re talking about the knight, right? No... With my divine power, I think... it might be a bit difficult...”

Boris quickly answered as he put down his teacup. Gwyneth nodded, having expected this response.

Boris tightly gripped the now-warm teacup, his palms pressed together, and continued.

“But that person... That Najane... I think, even without my divine power, I might be able to... heal his body...”

Through his fogged glasses, Boris’s violet eyes sparkled.

“I think there was something in his body. It seemed to appear and disappear... Um, I’m not completely sure, but...”

“In his body? Are you talking about a spell?”

“No, no. Not his body... his soul.”

“...His soul?”

Gwyneth was startled by the unexpected word. Boris quickly nodded eagerly and began explaining.

“Inside him, in his soul... there’s something that’s normally not present in others... It’s round, white, and sparkly... Um, uh, that’s... it’s hard to describe...”

“It’s okay. I can understand, so take your time and explain carefully.”

When Boris stuttered, unsure of how to explain, Gwyneth kindly encouraged him.

Boris, who had become a divine power user at a young age, was able to see far more than Gwyneth. Though he had good eyesight, he wore glasses to prevent himself from being overwhelmed by the things he constantly saw.

Boris closed his eyes to describe what he had seen more clearly, intending to explain to Gwyneth what he had witnessed inside Najane’s body.

“In that knight’s soul... there’s something cold but sparkling like gold. It’s not water... it’s colder and harder than that... But, um, it’s really, really sharp. It feels like it’s pushing out from the soul like this, like this... If it weren’t blocked, it wouldn’t hurt... but it seems like it’s completely clogged, so I think if that’s fixed, his body will get better too...”

Gwyneth pondered Boris’s words. Not water, but colder and harder—ice, then.

If what Boris said was true, it meant Najane’s soul held some kind of power, but he couldn’t fully release it due to physical limitations, causing the problem.

Boris’s description was similar to what was known as “sword energy.” Taylor had said that Najane couldn’t use sword energy properly because of his weak heart.

Could the heart be the reason why he couldn’t use his inner power?

Gwyneth’s expression grew serious as she thought. Boris, still with his eyes closed, continued to explain what he had seen.

“From the soul, um, it keeps trying to send that out to the body... but since his body is weak, it can’t take it well. So it keeps building up, becoming sharp like a hedgehog...”

It’s ice. It must be ice.

But there was one thing that puzzled Gwyneth—Najane was not a divine power user, let alone born with divine abilities like Amelia.

Gwyneth clasped her hands together and asked Boris.

“Are you saying that divine power is flowing through Najane’s body?”

Boris shook his head vigorously.

“No, no. It’s not divine power. It’s not divine power, but... it feels kind of similar. Right now, the power in Your Grace’s body is warm and soft, spinning around smoothly without blockages, but for that person...”

Boris, opening his eyes, tilted his head in confusion. He wasn’t sure how to describe what he had seen deep inside Najane’s body. Though he had learned much while staying with the pope, the power inside Najane was something Boris had never seen before.

Boris, having been trained to communicate clearly, looked around, trying to find a way to explain what he saw. Just then, he noticed something hidden beneath Gwyneth’s bed that resembled the same power he had sensed in Najane’s soul.

“That, the thing under the bed. It feels just like that.”

Boris pointed eagerly at the bed. Gwyneth, with a confused look, glanced at the bed and then remembered that she had hidden Rakhshu’s sword there.

Taking the velvet-wrapped sword out, Gwyneth asked in surprise.

“Is this what you mean?”

“Yes, the stone embedded in it.”

As soon as the velvet was removed, Boris pointed to the stone embedded in the sword.

“Mana stone?”

Gwyneth’s expression quickly changed as she alternated her gaze between Boris and Rakhshu’s sword.

“Wait, are you saying mana flows through Najane’s body?”

Flustered, Gwyneth looked back at Boris. Boris blinked his large eyes, showing that he didn’t quite understand what mana was, but his expression clearly conveyed that there was no doubt the power within Najane’s body was the same as the mana stone embedded in Rakhshu’s sword.

Gwyneth, momentarily frozen, opened her mouth, unsure of what to say, and then closed it again, repeating the motion.

After sealing away the Seriths, humanity rebuilt civilization purely with human strength, without magic. This was unavoidable. Like a deep well that had been emptied, magic quickly disappeared from the world. Humanity’s abandonment of magic was not a choice but a forced necessity.

By the time the Astruns had all died and their stories became myths, there were hardly any people left with magical powers. Even those born with large amounts of mana would often die without knowing what kind of power they had, since the lineage of magic had already been severed.

Yet, Najane was born with mana.

His weak heart caused a major obstruction to the flow of mana, preventing him from properly using his sword energy. The repercussions of this affected his body, and to extend his life, which was hanging by a thread due to contradictory spells, he would need to either find a way to circulate his mana or replace his heart with a stronger one.

However, knowledge of mana had long since been lost, leaving only one possible solution.

“...Boris. Have you ever performed a heart transplant?”

Gwyneth, with a troubled expression, let her arm holding Rakhshu’s sword hang limply. Boris, who had been about to drink his tea, looked at Gwyneth with confusion, not understanding what she had just said. It seemed he was too young to grasp the concept of a heart transplant.

“You’re going to give Najane someone else’s heart. Take his out and replace it with a new one.”

“Eh?”

Boris’s eyes widened in disbelief.

But Gwyneth seemed to be serious.

“We need to find a way. If we cut open his chest, blood will pour out, so we’ll have to figure out how to deal with that... But can we change his heart with his eyes all glazed over like that? It might be better to knock him out from behind. Oh! I almost forgot the most important part! We need to find a fresh heart first. One that’s healthy and strong!”

As Gwyneth muttered to herself while setting the sword down on the table, she suddenly looked down at Boris, her face lighting up as if she had found a coin while digging in the ground.

“Don’t worry, Boris. Luckily, we have strange spells, and we have you, don’t we?”

“Me...?”

“I’ll consult Venus. We don’t have much time.”

With childlike excitement, Gwyneth grabbed her coat and prepared to leave. Boris, still confused by the sudden turn of events, stared after her.

It seemed as though Gwyneth was about to leave immediately, but after a moment’s hesitation, she softened the flames on the table even further and said kindly.

“The maid will bring dinner here. I’ll try not to be too late, but if you want to go for a walk, just grab any knight and introduce yourself. Everyone will protect you.”

Boris didn’t understand what Gwyneth was planning to do or what she intended to do with Najane, but recalling the Pope’s words that adults often have difficult-to-explain circumstances, he nodded obediently.

“Have a good trip, Your Excellency. I’ll stay here in the room quietly.”

Gwyneth quickly left the knight’s quarters after saying she’d return before nightfall. Boris quietly listened to the sound of her running out, then let out a long sigh as he picked up his teacup.

“Adults sure are busy...”