SOTBW - 200

Tears streamed endlessly from her swollen eyes. Her hands and feet were freezing cold, but the pain in her chest was so overwhelming that she couldn’t even feel it.

Why… why…?

The question “Why did this happen?” kept swirling around in her mouth, refusing to leave.

Kieron looked at Najane with disdain as she struggled to form coherent words, her lips trembling uselessly. Najane’s spirit seemed to have left her body entirely, and Kieron poked at her cheek absently before whispering into her ear.

“Did you enjoy yourself with Maximón?”

Kieron asked in a sinister tone. Najane didn’t respond. She was too far gone to even think straight. Kieron peered into Najane’s vacant eyes and laughed mockingly.

“Come on, be honest. The curse was just an excuse, wasn’t it? You just liked spreading your legs for that guy like a whore, didn’t you?”

Najane trembled violently, barely managing to shake her head. That was all she could muster. Kieron sighed.

“While you were wasting your time being Maximón’s whore, while you were running off pretending to become a knight like Nellis to save people, do you want to know what happened to Luna?”

“...I... I...”

“The day you ran away, Luna was gang-raped by dozens of men.”

Kieron’s emotionless words caused Najane’s heart to drop like a stone. He shook his head in feigned pity as he watched her expression shift uncontrollably.

“Your little sister, tied up and helpless, cried out for you, but no one came to save her.”

Najane refused to believe Kieron’s words. She had to. If what she heard was true… if it really happened…

Najane’s face twisted in anguish. Collapsing forward until her forehead nearly touched her knees, she wept bitterly, as though watching the person she loved most burn away in flames.

Kieron watched Najane cry as if she couldn’t breathe, his expression indifferent. He had expected a more dramatic reaction and seemed slightly disappointed. As he toyed with Najane’s frozen, wet hair like it was some kind of toy, he taunted her cruelly.

“Tell me the truth, Emaydis. You never intended to find Luna, did you? Admit it. You were so infatuated with Maximón that you forgot all about her. Without that troublesome brat around, your life would’ve been much easier…”

Kieron trailed off mid-sentence when Najane suddenly grabbed his wrist with surprising strength. He had assumed she was completely broken, her will to resist utterly gone—but he was wrong.

Though Kieron didn’t feel any pain, he was deeply irritated by Najane’s sudden act of defiance. Just as he was about to blast her wrist off with magic, the hand he’d raised—already glowing with a magical sigil—froze solid, turning pure white. Jagged frost crept up his arm from where Najane held him, chilling it to the bone.

Startled, Kieron yanked his hand away. His frozen forearm shattered and fell off his body with a sickening crack. Shocked, he tried to retreat, but his legs wouldn’t budge.

Only then did he look down. Ice had spread across the ground, encasing his legs. The frost surged upward like wildfire, sharp icicles jutting out threateningly toward him.

Kieron, who had always maintained the upper hand, frantically darted his eyes around. This was magic—the famed ice magic of the Bastronia family.

He was utterly shocked that Najane had cast magic without incantations or sigils. It should have been impossible. Najane was a person of this era; how could someone unfamiliar with mana stones or magic possibly…

Kieron quickly melted the ice and forced himself free from Najane’s grip. But icy shards clung to his body, freezing his clothes stiff as glass.

Cursing under his breath, Kieron glared at Najane. She staggered upright, blood-red tears streaming from her unfocused eyes. The story Kieron had told her must have been too much for her to bear, as she appeared to have collapsed, unconscious from sobbing.

Najane sat there slack-jawed, as if she had forgotten how to breathe, then suddenly vomited a gush of hot blood. At that moment, sharp ice crystals erupted around her like the spines of a porcupine. The ice pierced her skin mercilessly.

Kieron flinched and backed away. Najane had lost control of her mana and magic. It was a common symptom among mages who had succumbed to rage and sorrow, losing their sense of self.

Unprepared for this turn of events, Kieron’s expression twisted in irritation. As much as he wanted to figure out how Najane had used magic, it was time to retreat. Voices calling out for Najane could already be heard beyond the garden.

Spitting in Najane’s direction, Kieron vanished like a mirage. As soon as he disappeared, the towering ice shattered, scattering into snowflakes. Najane, now unconscious, collapsed face-first onto the ground.

Bright red blood rapidly spread across the pristine white snowfield.

---

When Maximón realized Najane was missing, he fell apart like a man facing death. The party venue descended into chaos, and he wandered aimlessly, checking every uniformed woman in sight, consumed by despair.

Among the women in black uniforms, there was no one with hair the color of dry earth. Still, Maximón checked every single female knight.

Calling out Najane’s name with a voice so loud it shook his chest, he searched for his beloved like a lost child. Thousands of people filled the party hall, yet the one person Maximón desperately sought was nowhere to be found.

The nobles watched him with strange expressions as his face turned pale with mounting anxiety. Gasping for air, Maximón clutched at his throat and frantically scanned the area around him.

Najane had disappeared. She was nowhere to be seen.

Maximón rushed to the balcony. Ignoring the biting cold wind, he opened every balcony door to check if Najane might be there.

He called out her name as though he had lost the entire world.

“Najane!”

Even someone standing before an execution block wouldn’t feel such desperation.

“Najane, where are you? Where could you be… Najane!”

Not even a person facing death tomorrow would cry like this.

“Najane… Najane, please… If I call your name, you’re supposed to come out. I can’t play hide-and-seek… Please, just come out now, please, please, I’m begging you!”

Even losing one’s limbs wouldn’t compare to the agony etched on his face.

The guests at the party fell silent. Curis, who had briefly stepped away from the venue to catch his breath, only learned of the situation later.

It turned out that Curis’s butler had witnessed Najane asking about someone.

“She asked me to confirm whether a man named Kieron Vieto was present, so I checked for her, but she disappeared before I could report back.”

After the butler spoke, a maid hiding behind the gentlemen timidly raised her hand.

“…I think someone in uniform went down to the garden…”

Without looking back, Maximón sprinted toward the garden.

At that moment, a noble girl who happened to attend the party watched Maximón leap off the balcony without hesitation and thought how truly tragic it was. To become so unhinged simply because the woman he loved wasn’t there and didn’t respond to his calls—what would happen if she were dead?

If despair and defeat could take human form, Maximón Elgort, having lost Najane Schnicks, would embody them perfectly.

The crowd silently watched Maximón race toward the winter garden, now abandoned by visitors, from their positions by the windows. Maximón paid no heed to how today’s events might later be recounted or what rumors might arise. All he cared about was Najane’s presence and safety.

Maximón ran along the footprints imprinted on the pristine white snowfield. Trampling over carefully tended trees and scattering evergreen leaves, he dashed in an unknown direction.

If only Najane would call out to him, he’d rush to her side immediately—but the winter garden remained eerily silent, devoid of any signs of life. It felt as though Maximón was utterly alone, surrounded by desolation and cold.

“Najane…”

Maximón measured the size of the clear footprints left in the snow with his palm. They undoubtedly belonged to Najane. His chest burned fiercely with impatience.

“Najane, please answer me!”

As Maximón cried out, crows perched on skeletal branches took flight. The sun was nearly set. He should have returned to the knights’ quarters to prepare for deployment, but he couldn’t leave. He was certain Najane was somewhere nearby.

Maximón felt as though he were running through a nightmare with no exit. What if Najane had collapsed again…? What if she were coughing up blood, unable to move, just like that day…?

Overwhelmed by fear, Maximón hesitated at a fork in the path, unsure which way to go. The thought of something terrible happening to Najane made him feel as though his heart was melting away.

Then, carried by the icy winter wind, the faint smell of blood reached him. Maximón followed the direction of the wind. Pushing past the trees that lined the walking paths like walls, the scent of blood grew stronger. A chilling premonition clawed at his heart.

“…Najane?”

Arriving at the fountain, Maximón slowed his steps. There, beside the fountain, he saw a figure lying motionless. Each step forward through the piled snow sent shivers of dread coursing through him.

Najane lay still in the blood-soaked snow. Trembling, Maximón lifted her cold, lifeless body. He gently caressed her frozen cheek, veins stark against her skin, then pressed his own cheek to hers, thinking his hands were too cold.

A thin stream of tears flowed down the cheeks that touched hers.

“Najane.”

Maximón cradled Najane’s blood-soaked face in his hands as he quietly sobbed.

“Najane… We’ll go back together…”

As he whispered softly, a faint breath escaped from her lips. Najane was still alive. Maximón pulled her frail body close, overcome with relief.

Swallowing his tears, he silently thanked the goddess Sylin. He was truly grateful that he still had a chance, that fate had not yet taken her away.

If he could safely die as a human in this life and be reborn, he wished to be reborn as Najane’s first rib in the next life. If only he could spend an entire lifetime listening to the steady beating of her heart—from the day she was born into that small body until she grew old and became a grandmother…

Soon, people arrived, having discovered Maximón and Najane.

The party came to an abrupt and horrifying end. And soon, rumors spread throughout the fortress of Noctis that Najane Schnicks had fallen gravely ill, afflicted with a deadly sickness.