SOTBW - 193

There are nights when sleep simply won’t come, and for Najane, tonight was one of them. Perhaps it was because Maximón had gone out to the field; no matter how much she tossed and turned or tried to find the most comfortable position, sleep eluded her.

The fields were likely quiet now, devoid of Serith. She had heard that after her collapse, the Serith stopped their attacks and vanished without a trace. A peaceful and tranquil night was rarer and more precious than even the Eyes of Serith traded at exorbitant prices.

Najane prayed that Maximón wouldn’t catch a cold from the biting wind as she burrowed deeper into her blanket. Maximón had strapped the dagger she gifted him to his waist before heading out. He probably regarded it as a talisman.

Thinking of Maximón standing alone in the eerily silent field made sleep entirely impossible. Finally, with a sigh, Najane rose from her bed.

When she lit the candle by her bedside, the curtains by the window fluttered slightly. It seemed the wind outside was strong. Everyone should be alright… The thought of the knights standing vigil in the field unsettled her.

Leaving her bed, Najane quietly stepped into the living room. In the hearth, the firewood Maximón had stacked earlier burned steadily.

After aimlessly surveying the quiet living room, she dragged her weary steps toward the desk. Placing the candle on the candelabra, the dim light illuminated the area around the desk just enough.

From beneath the desk, Najane retrieved her sword, tightly wrapped in cloth. The broken holy sword no longer gleamed as it once did. As she gently stroked the shattered blade, Najane’s gaze grew distant.

She felt as though she could rush out and fight right now. The memory of battling under a sky filled with countless stars felt so vivid that she couldn’t believe she would never wield a sword again.

Though she had seemingly accepted her fate, moments like this—when left alone—inevitably led her to deny the destiny awaiting her. But she couldn’t let Maximón or those around her see her like this.

For their sake, Najane forced herself to appear composed and calm. The more she cried and grieved, the greater the pain for those who would remain behind. She didn’t want people to remember her with sadness.

After tenderly caressing the cold blade, Najane rewrapped it in the cloth and hid it back under the desk. Soon, Maximón would dispose of it—whether returning it to Gwyneth or discarding it somewhere.

Instead of returning to her bedroom, Najane lay down on the sofa and covered herself with a blanket. She didn’t want to sleep alone in the bed without Maximón.

As she gazed at the steadily burning candlelight, Najane slowly closed her eyes. Fortunately, she fell asleep almost immediately.

When the flickering flame atop the short candlestick finally extinguished, the living room was left faintly lit only by the glow of the hearth. The icy winter wind swept past the quarters, rattling the windows.

As some of the carefully stacked firewood crumbled into charcoal and the pooled wax began to harden, a woman appeared silently, as if she had always been there.

This woman was not a living person but a will—a consciousness. The suddenly manifested figure quietly observed Najane, curled up asleep on the sofa, before hesitantly reaching out her hand.

The woman’s fingers brushed against Najane’s hair and forehead like a breeze. Unable to touch Najane directly, the woman clenched her fist in frustration and knelt down.

Her dry, earth-toned hair cascaded like a curtain. Without a word, she gently rested the back of her hand against Najane’s cheek.

But Najane felt nothing. To an ordinary person, a will is indistinguishable from empty air—something unseen and unheard, even when whispering. Even if the will stood right there, speaking softly, Najane would perceive nothing.

The woman perched on the armrest of the sofa seemed aware of this truth. With eyes brimming with emotion, she gazed at Najane for a long time. Her calloused, rough hands, hardened from years of honing her swordsmanship, patted Najane’s shoulder gently. That touch carried many unspoken words the woman had never managed to say to Najane.

Each time the faint, ghostly touch brushed against Najane like a gentle breeze, Najane slipped into another dream. A will is essentially a massive bundle of memories. Whenever the woman tried to caress Najane, fragments of those memories flowed into her unaltered and undistorted.

“You swore before everyone to sacrifice everything for your homeland. Do you intend to break that vow now?”

“How can sharing a bed with Your Highness possibly be a way to serve my country?”

“The Pope said a hero would be born between you and me.”

“Even so, I cannot betray Queen Audelica.”

“If you must choose between your friendship with Audelica and your homeland, you should rightfully choose your nation.”

“Your Majesty!”

“Look at this country! Crushed by neighboring nations, unable to expand its borders, withering away! Didn’t you swear to do anything for Kalonosia? If you wish to be loyal to your homeland, bear my child, Nellis. The Pope’s prophecy has never failed—it will surely come true!”

“I cannot, Your Majesty… No matter how great the Pope’s prophecy may be, I cannot betray Audelica!”

“...I thought you still loved me. Did giving up the position of Crown Princess mean you’ve also given up your heart?”

“Both Your Highness and Audelica were equally precious to me.”

“Don’t be foolish. If you had become the Crown Princess, none of us would have ended up unhappy.”

“Your Highness, please don’t come any closer…. I don’t wish to raise my sword against you.”

“Do you think you could stab me? If you can, it would be best to cut off my head cleanly.”

“Your Highness… Your Highness, please, don’t do this…. I beg you, please…”

“Choose, Nellis. Friendship or loyalty. If you truly choose friendship, I will leave immediately for a territory neighboring Powley.”

“…Your Highness. I, I…”

“I have loved you from the very beginning, Nellis…. Please. Bear my child.”

“…If I bear Your Highness’s child, what will happen to Audelica…? What will become of my friend?”

“Do not worry. I won’t cast aside the Queen so easily. There are many uses for Audelica’s family.”

“…Did the Pope really prophesy that a hero would be born?”

“Yes. He specifically pointed to you and me. A girl will be born between us, and she will become the hero who opens a new world and saves humanity in the future.”

The sword Nellis had been holding dropped to the floor. At that moment, a torrent of emotions surged within her. She had sworn to sacrifice herself willingly to protect her homeland, but never imagined her vow would manifest in such a way.

The pressure to uphold her oath as a Sword Master and the sense of duty to protect her nation had always weighed heavily on Nellis. Though she knew she sometimes had to abandon moral beliefs for her country’s benefit, she had thought she had resigned herself to becoming a tool for its gain. But now, overwhelmed by disgust at how her body had been turned into a means to an end, and haunted by memories of her past love, she collapsed onto the bed in despair.

As Leon drew nearer, her guilt toward Queen Audelica snowballed. With a dazed expression, Nellis considered that it might be better to take her own life. Yet, she couldn’t bring herself to pick up the fallen sword.

Courage failed her entirely. Even knowing that failing to die here meant a lifetime of suffering, she simply couldn’t lift the blade.

In that moment, when she abandoned the sword and clenched her trembling hands over her thighs, Nellis’ fate was sealed.

Najane turned away from the weeping Nellis and looked behind her.

There stood another version of Nellis. This Nellis silently cried, looking down at the baby in the cradle. The infant, unaware of her mother’s sorrow, whimpered and flailed her tiny hands around.

It was obvious who the baby in the cradle was. Najane approached the sobbing Nellis and peered down at the child. Seeing Nellis weep while the newborn innocently smiled stirred an indescribable sadness and directionless anger within her.

“…Why are you showing me this?”

Najane turned to Nellis, her voice rising with anger.

“What do you want by showing me this? What are you trying to achieve?! Are you asking me to understand your situation? If you have something to say, then say it clearly!”

But the Nellis in the dream did not respond to Najane’s voice. Najane tried to force the kneeling, crying Nellis to stand, but instead fled the room in a panic.

Outside the long row of windows along the hallway, everything was blindingly white. This wasn’t the Powley mansion—it was the villa in the snowy mountains where Nellis had hidden from the world to carry and give birth to her child.

Najane wandered aimlessly, glancing around before covering her ears and running down the hallway. Just then, maids carrying baby supplies ascended the stairs.

She dashed down the stairs at full speed but missed a step and tumbled down hard. Colliding with the wall, Najane curled up on the spot, unable to rise. Though no part of her body hurt, the tangled web of emotions made it difficult to breathe.

At that moment, someone gently caressed Najane’s cold cheek. Struggling to sit up, Najane opened her eyes. Didina was there, her face filled with concern as she stroked Najane’s forehead and cheeks with her palm.

“Goodness… Were you sleeping here? You’ll catch a cold like this…. Wait a moment. I’ll bring you some warm water.”

After covering Najane with a blanket, Didina hurriedly hung a kettle on the fireplace. Najane, staring blankly at Didina, finally turned her gaze toward the window, where the pale light of dawn was streaming in.

It felt like she had been trapped in a terrible nightmare, but nothing came to mind. It must have been terrifying enough to make her scream, run, and collapse somewhere… yet she couldn’t recall a thing.

Najane moistened her dry mouth with saliva and closed her eyes. She felt that if she focused hard enough, she might be able to remember the dream, but for some reason, she didn’t want to try.

Rubbing her dry eyes, Najane pulled the blanket up to her shoulders. The living room, with its high ceiling, was cooler than the bedroom. When Najane let out a raspy cough, Didina, who had been preparing the knights’ uniforms, jumped in surprise.

Najane’s health was directly tied to Maximón’s mood. Flustered, Didina quickly handed her a cup of warm water and checked her complexion.

“Shall I call a healer? Or perhaps fetch some herbs…? If the Commander finds out you’re unwell, he’ll be deeply upset. It would be best to summon a priest. Please wait just a moment.”

As Didina moved to call the maids, visibly anxious, Najane swiftly grabbed the hem of her dress, sensing things might escalate.

“It’s just the dry air, Head Maid. I’ll be fine by the time he returns, so don’t worry.”

“But…”

“Besides, why are you preparing that uniform? Is there an event today?”

Najane quickly changed the subject, pointing to the clothes Didina had been handling earlier. Didina turned to look at the neatly pressed uniform, her expression one of mild surprise.

“Today is the Knights’ year-end party. Didn’t you know? I assumed you’d be attending. The Commander mentioned that Lady Schnicks would be present at the party… Did no one inform you?”

At Didina’s explanation, Najane finally nodded as if the memory had just returned. She recalled the party—the one the Eschus Knights had insisted on organizing, reluctantly inviting dignitaries. Lately, her mind had been so scattered that she had completely forgotten about it.

Looking back at the uniform, Najane slowly closed her mouth, which had been hanging open in surprise. If luck was on her side, she might encounter Kieron Vieto. As a major donor to the Romsoa Knights, he would have surely received an invitation from the Eschus Knights.

The thought of what she needed to do calmed Najane’s gaze. Maximón had said he would soon meet Luna, but Najane wanted at least a small measure of revenge—she wanted to confront the person who had cursed her.

Perhaps meeting Kieron Vieto would be her final act as a knight.

Najane gazed at the unfamiliar uniform, then rose from the sofa with a subdued expression.