SOTBW - 191

Maximón was genuinely planning to leave the Romsoa Knights. Belshua dropped his hand, which had been gripping the sword, his face hard and unyielding.

Most likely, he intended to leave Noctis Fortress with Najane. However, neither Maximón nor Najane could escape this place. Even if the branches of fate stretched in different directions based on their choices, the main trunk still pointed steadfastly in one direction.

Belshua, kicking away the shattered remnants of his sword, avoided Maximón’s gaze.

“I have no intention of taking it.”

“Why not? The position of commander is a highly honorable one.”

“…I’m a failure when it comes to taking responsibility for anything.”

Belshua spoke with genuine self-deprecation, his voice heavy with regret. It wasn’t an act—it was sincere. Hearing the fear in his voice, Maximón frowned as he rested the nearly broken sword on his shoulder.

“You’re already responsible for training the young recruits. How can you say that?”

“That’s just following orders.”

“I see. Then, starting tomorrow, you’ll also take charge of training the mercenaries.”

“Commander!”

Belshua raised his voice in protest at the unilateral command, but Maximón ignored his outcry and discarded the broken practice sword.

“I plan to appoint Jacob as the vice-commander.”

Maximón spoke as if it were already a foregone conclusion that Belshua would become the commander. Since Belshua had absolutely no intention of taking on such a heavy responsibility, his frustration was evident in his expression.

“You might as well make him the commander. If we’re talking about responsibility, Jacob is far more suited for the role.”

“Is this an act of concession, or are you avoiding it?”

“Neither.”

“I’ve already made my decision, but if you feel so strongly, I’ll give it some more thought and delay it for now.”

Maximón remained calm and composed. Despite Belshua’s visible agitation and outright refusal, it seemed Maximón was determined to entrust the Romsoa Knights to him regardless.

For the first time, Belshua found himself missing Daniel. If Daniel were here, he could have passed the burden of leadership onto him… Daniel was the perfect candidate for the role of commander. His lineage, family, skills, and character were all impeccable. Who could possibly find fault with the rightful heir of the Luamars family?

Though Belshua hoped Daniel wouldn’t return to Noctis, he was certain that if he did, Daniel would excel in the role of commander.

“…Are you really planning to leave the Romsoa Knights?”

Belshua asked with a skeptical tone. Maximón didn’t respond. His silence suggested there was no point in asking further.

Belshua sighed deeply as he watched the knights running around the training grounds. Maximón’s transformation was so radical that even Belshua hadn’t anticipated it. The reason behind it was painfully obvious.

At that moment, Maximón, now holding a wooden sword instead of the broken practice blade, turned back to Belshua.

“Did you see Najane today?”

When speaking of Najane, Maximón looked genuinely happy.

Belshua hesitated for a moment, wanting to mention that he’d seen her briefly yesterday, but then shook his head.

“It’s been a while since I last saw her.”

“Really? That’s good to hear.”

At Maximón’s words, Belshua squinted suspiciously. Maximón, resting the wooden sword on his shoulder, smiled faintly. His smile, while filled with happiness, also carried a tinge of sadness as he thought of Najane.

Belshua silently observed Maximón standing in the shadows. Though reluctant to admit it, he could see traces of the old Sains in Maximón—gentle, considerate, and always prioritizing Emaydis Bastronia above all else.

Maximón glanced toward the direction of his quarters, reminiscing about the time he had spent with Najane earlier.

“Today, she wore the green dress I gifted her, and we went out together. She looked absolutely lovely—the most adorable person in the world. Of course, Najane is always lovely and beautiful, but today she was especially radiant.”

“…Are you bragging to me right now?”

When Belshua snapped irritably, Maximón chuckled softly.

“If you change your mind, come to my quarters anytime. My decision won’t change, regardless.”

Just then, the knights who had finished their ten laps gathered near the platform. Maximón walked over to them as if he no longer had any business with Belshua.

Belshua stared at Maximón’s retreating back.

“Mahilen. If anything happens to me, I leave Matis and Astrun in your care. I’m truly sorry for making such a request on such a beautiful day. But no matter how much I think about it, you’re the only one I can trust with this.”

Belshua lowered his gaze as he watched Maximón blend into the crowd of knights.

You still have the habit of entrusting what you cherish to me.

At that moment, the knights pairing up for sparring called out to Belshua, urging him to hurry. Reluctantly, Belshua began walking toward them after waving briefly.

---

After finishing training with the knights, Maximón returned directly to his quarters. Starting tonight, he would have to head back out to the field. He figured that if he finished the backlog of paperwork and took a nap with Najane during the day, the timing would work out perfectly.

Upon entering his quarters, Maximón glanced around the living room cluttered with documents and noticed a gift box sitting on the desk. It was the same box Najane had carried out of the jewelry shop.

Maximón, who had been about to take off his coat and head into the bathroom, approached the desk instead. Tucked between the beautifully tied ribbons was a postcard. With a puzzled expression, Maximón flipped it over.

[To my beloved Maximón,  

I’m sorry it took so long to repay you for the emeralds.  

I hope this will protect you in my place forever.  

I truly hope you like it…  

From your lover, Najane]

Maximón carefully absorbed the neat handwriting with his eyes, struggling to suppress the smile tugging at his lips as he untied the ribbon. Inside the box lay a gleaming silver dagger.

Holding the dagger in one hand, Maximón examined the scabbard closely before focusing on the gemstones sparkling under the winter sunlight. Red diamonds. They were intricately inlaid along the silver-crafted scabbard, extending all the way to the guard.

As Maximón gazed at the dazzling bursts of light refracting from the stones, he couldn’t help but rub at the corners of his mouth, which kept twitching upward. In Bastronia, there was a custom of confessing love by gifting a gemstone that matched the color of one’s eyes. Typically, men followed this tradition when confessing their love—but could it be…?

Just then, the bedroom door clicked open. At the sound, Maximón immediately turned his head. Najane peeked her head through the doorway and awkwardly smiled as she alternated her gaze between Maximón and the dagger.

“...Do you like it?”

Najane, far shyer than usual, avoided Maximón’s gaze. Instead of answering, Maximón rushed over and kissed her.

Lifting Najane, who was still wearing her dress, Maximón pressed kisses to her soft, warm lips. Overwhelmed by the cascade of kisses, Najane let out a small laugh. She cradled Maximón’s cold face in her hands, shyly raising the corners of her lips.

“You do like it, right? I thought long and hard about it… and picked it out carefully.”

Even as Najane spoke, Maximón’s kisses continued. He brushed his lips against her warm, delicate ear and nape.

It was an unexpected gift—the most cherished one he had ever received. Having seen Najane hesitate and deliberate at the jewelry shop, Maximón’s heart soared as if floating on air.

Still showering her with kisses, Maximón nuzzled his face against her small shoulders, inhaling her scent from the soft velvet fabric.

Cradling Najane in his arms, Maximón carried her into the bedroom. Suddenly, the words written on the postcard came back to him: I hope this will protect you in my place forever…

Overcome with emotion, Maximón’s lips trembled faintly. Silently cursing within, he buried his sorrow along with his lips against Najane’s mischievous nape.

He wished the moon in the night sky would stop waxing, that the seasons would halt and remain unchanged. He prayed that everyone would love her, that miracles would occur, and that God would punish his selfishness and save her.

Kissing every pulse point where he could feel her soul, Maximón finally lifted his head. Najane, who had been giggling softly from the ticklish kisses, slowly withdrew her smile as she met Maximón’s glistening gaze. Though Maximón forced a smile, his eyes brimmed with transparent tears.

Startled, Najane was about to comfort Maximón when her body tilted backward onto the bed. She let out a short gasp. Maximón collapsed onto the bed with her still in his arms. The dagger that had fallen to the floor sparkled faintly on its own.

“...Maximón.”

Najane instinctively pulled him closer into her embrace. Maximón buried his face against her chest and said nothing. A faint trembling breath escaped near her heart.

“I know I’m being stupid.”

Tears streamed down Maximón’s face as he lifted his head. Najane silently caressed his cheeks.

Maximón leaned his face into her palm and tightly shut his eyes. Tears spilled from his clenched lips, soaking her chest.

“You must be disgusted by me—keeping silent until you fell apart, only to act like a child now.”

“Maximón.”

“I ruined you. I… destroyed you.”

“That’s not true.”

Najane pulled Maximón into a tight hug. Though he could have easily supported her weight, he wrapped his arms around her slender waist and let himself fall back onto the bed.

Nestled in Maximón’s arms, Najane lifted her head. Since the day she had collapsed, all he had done was blame himself. As if incapable of anything else, he would briefly find happiness, only to sink back into sorrow, regretting the irreversible passage of time and hating himself for it.

Ironically, the person who struggled most to accept Najane’s impending death was Maximón—the same man who had kept everything related to the Sword’s Breath a secret until the very end. While Najane, the one preparing to leave this world, was gradually coming to terms with her fate, Maximón couldn’t bring himself to prepare for their separation even a little.

Najane cupped Maximón’s tear-streaked cheeks with her hands and pressed her forehead against his.

“Maximón...”

Her voice was tender as she called his name. Maximón kept his eyes tightly shut, refusing to open them. Smiling softly, Najane pressed her palm firmly against his forehead.

“Maximón, look at me. I didn’t give you that dagger so you’d cry like this…”

Instead of opening his eyes, Maximón gripped her hand tightly. Najane gazed at him, her foolish Maximón, before slowly lowering her gaze.

“The time I fought as a knight of Romsoa was the brightest moment of my life.”

At those words, Maximón opened his eyes. His wet lashes lifted as he silently stared into Najane’s eyes.

He couldn’t fathom how she had forgiven his foolishness. What was clear, though, was that this—this moment between them—was exactly the form of true love Maximón had longed for all his life. A love that remained steadfast through anything, forgiving and understanding no matter the tragedy… 

Maximón held Najane close, thinking of the gemstones embedded in the dagger that gleamed so brilliantly. Despite receiving the love he had always yearned for, he felt no joy—only despair.

In facing the moment he would lose Najane, he realized the love he had craved was meaningless. Love wasn’t some grand, unattainable ideal—it was present in everyone, every action, every fleeting moment.

It was treating others with kindness, avoiding the same mistakes, striving to become a better version of oneself. It was preparing a bouquet of flowers to make your beloved smile. Even if feelings changed someday, giving your all to each other in the present moment.

Rather than promising eternal love, it was saying, “Let’s spend today together happily.” It was creating memories that might never be recorded but would remain beautiful recollections in each other’s hearts…

All of it was love.

Imperfect, incomplete, clumsy—it was still love.

Maximón thought of the dagger Najane had gifted him. He imagined her earnestly selecting gemstones to inlay in the dagger as repayment for the emeralds. Her gaze, expression, and every movement were filled with care.

In every moment, in every second, Najane poured her entire being into loving Maximón. The reason she chose the dagger, the effort she put into picking the gems, the hope that her beloved would smile upon receiving the gift—all of it was love itself.

As Maximón recalled the moments he had been cruel to Najane, tears finally overflowed. Knowing it was irreversible, he suffocated under the weight of his affection and guilt toward her.

He wanted to die. If Najane were to pass away, Maximón resolved to take his own life with the dagger she had gifted him today. For him, there was no option to live without Najane.

No one could ever love Maximón the way Najane did, and Maximón knew he could never dare to love anyone else as much as he loved her.

Najane’s eyes reddened as she watched Maximón cry.

“Do you love me?”

Though she already knew the answer, she asked anyway. Maximón gave a faint smile.

“…I love you.”

“That’s all I need. That answer is enough…”

Maximón kissed Najane briefly. His tear-soaked lips were salty, soft, and gently warm.

That day was an ordinary, mundane day in every way—except for the fact that a pair of lovers on their worn-out bed were preparing to say goodbye.