SOTBW - 206

Najane sat slanted in the water, gazing at Maximón’s back, which looked as solid and unyielding as a boulder. She felt a pang of guilt for causing him such distress. Watching him enter the bathtub, she shyly teased:  

“I’ve never seen your bare backside before. Especially your… well, it’s so nice I don’t think you should show it to anyone else.”  

At her words, Maximón chuckled softly and pulled her close into his embrace.  

“If I’d known you’d like it this much, I would’ve shown you sooner.”  

“My backside?” Najane burst into laughter at his response. Her laughter eased Maximón’s anxious heart. When Najane laughed, everything felt perfect. For her smile, he would endure any humiliation or make a fool of himself without hesitation.  

Maximón brushed her wet hair back and gazed at her with tender affection. The warm water seemed to soothe her, and the shadows that had clouded her face began to lift.  

But despite the momentary relief, his worries persisted. Though the curse was gradually weakening, its potency still triggered intense heat within her body. Najane’s condition had deteriorated to the point of hemorrhaging, and if another wave of arousal hit her…  

Sex itself wasn’t the issue—it could be managed. The real problem was that Najane’s physical endurance had plummeted far below that of an ordinary person. Even slight strain could cause her to bleed from her nose and collapse again.  

Maximón fiddled with her hand submerged in the water. The thought of losing this body, this touch, sent a chill through his heart.  

As he leaned his forehead against her small shoulder, about to beg her not to leave, Najane’s lower back twitched as though she were about to vomit. She quickly turned toward the edge of the tub and spat out blood, hurriedly covering her mouth with her palm to avoid staining the water.  

“Najane!”  

Maximón tried to mask his alarm as he checked on her. After rinsing her mouth with water, Najane gave a weak smile.  

Maximón wrapped his arms around her shoulders and glanced down at her bare back. In the moment Najane had vomited blood, an unfamiliar ritual insignia had briefly appeared on her lower back before vanishing. He was startled but recalled something—her question about whether she had any rituals inscribed on her body.  

Unaware of the mark, Najane blushed deeply, embarrassed by her disheveled state.  

“My stomach suddenly churned… I’m sorry for startling you. It just happened…”  

She lowered her gaze, unsure of what to do, like a child who had accidentally caused mischief. Sensing the rapid decline of her body, she softened her brow and wore a sorrowful expression.  

Seeing Najane shrink into herself nearly brought Maximón to tears, but he forced a smile and gently stroked her gaunt cheek.  

“Don’t apologize to me, Najane. You haven’t done anything wrong.”  

Hiding his sadness behind a calm facade, Maximón wrapped a soft cloth around his index finger.  

“Let me brush your teeth. Go on, open up.”  

Amused by his overly caring gesture, Najane pursed her lips into a circle, thinking it was a joke. But Maximón gently held her chin and carefully began brushing her teeth.  

The thumb pressing lightly on her chin felt affectionate. This was love—it couldn’t be anything else. If this wasn’t love, then no one in the world knew what love truly was.  

After finishing, Najane rinsed her mouth and playfully pretended to bite Maximón’s lips. In response, he tilted his chin forward, silently asking for a kiss. Meeting his expectant gaze, Najane kissed him—a kiss imbued with thousands of years of unwavering affection and longing.  

Maximón…  

When they first met, he had been like a glacier that refused to melt for tens of thousands of years. A barren forest stripped bare by loggers—a man impossible to read. She had wondered who could ever love someone like him.  

Pulling away from the kiss, Najane looked into his eyes. His emerald-green irises shimmered with undeniable affection.  

He was like the dawn before sunrise.  

Though his world remained dim in the pre-dawn light, she knew without doubt that the sky would eventually brighten.  

Najane slowly took in his handsome face, committing it to memory, before placing her hand on his broad, sturdy chest. The memory of Maximón’s proposal to become husband and wife pierced her heart deeply. His words—that he wanted to marry a dying woman—had made her both happy and heartbroken.  

She wanted to tell him to find someone more ordinary after she was gone but stopped herself. Such words would wound both Maximón, who would remain, and Najane, who would depart.  

Removing her hand from his chest, Najane awkwardly averted her gaze.

“Let’s get out before the water gets cold.”  

Maximón lifted Najane and stepped out of the bathtub.  

After getting dressed, they exited the bathroom to find a familiar healing priest sitting tensely on the guest sofa. It was the same priest who had visited when Najane had once feigned illness.  

The priest greeted them respectfully. Whether or not he had heard rumors of Najane’s terminal condition, his medical bag was filled with holy water. However, Najane’s symptoms were far beyond what mere holy water could cure. The priest seemed to know this as well.  

Though visibly flustered by the inexplicable nature of her illness, the priest offered some generic advice—keep her body warm, avoid field missions, eat fresh food during winter—and then left the mansion.  

If it had been the usual Maximón, he might have grown irritated at the priest’s useless suggestions. But now, desperate for any help, he listened intently, hoping even the smallest tip might make a difference.  

Maximón poured the holy water the priest had left into a glass and handed it to Najane. She drank it without complaint, though she felt no improvement. Still, she forced herself to look refreshed and light-hearted afterward. If drinking holy water could ease Maximón’s worries, she would gladly drink gallons of it.  

Najane looked around the now-pristine bedroom, where no trace of blood remained. She felt guilty for making the maids work so hard.  

As she fiddled with the pillowcases and blankets that smelled of sunlight, Najane gave a bitter smile. Maximón watched her inspect the stone floor for any remaining bloodstains before gently knocking on the bedroom door.  

Najane turned her head toward the knock, puzzled, while flipping over the carpet. Maximón stood there with his hands clasped behind his back, pretending to be a refined gentleman as he extended one hand to her.  

“Najane, I have a gift for you.”  

“A gift? Now?”  

Though tilting her head in confusion, Najane took his hand without hesitation. He draped his coat over her shoulders and led her out of the mansion.  

Strangely, none of the soldiers who usually surrounded the estate were in sight. Sensing something unusual, Najane stopped in front of the gate. Instead of asking where they were going, she simply looked at Maximón. Without explanation, he pointed down the gentle slope leading away from the mansion.  

Only then did Najane’s eyes follow his gesture. Someone was walking up the familiar path with Didina. At first, Najane didn’t recognize the person; her blurred vision made it hard to focus.  

Frowning slightly, Najane squinted at the visitor approaching under the winter sun. It wasn’t until later that she noticed the beautiful platinum-blond hair.  

Overwhelmed, Najane opened her mouth to ask Maximón who it was, but her lips trembled instead. The platinum hair shimmered in the cold breeze like summer sunlight. The person she had missed most since settling in Noctis Fortress was now walking toward the mansion.  

Stunned, Najane covered her mouth with both hands. Just then, the visitor climbing the hill also looked up at Didina’s signal. Upon spotting Najane, the woman froze mid-step.  

“Sister…”  

She whispered, swallowing her trembling voice. Didina gently pushed the woman forward, encouraging her to go. Clasping her cold hands tightly, the woman burst into tears and called out.  

“Sister… Sister!”  

Luna ran up the path, sobbing loudly.  

Overcome with emotion, Najane stood frozen in place. Luna ran to her with all her strength, and Najane finally pulled her into a tight embrace with trembling arms.  

Holding Luna, who must have endured so much alone, Najane’s tears flowed uncontrollably. Struggling to swallow her sobs, she slowly stroked Luna’s back, now much thinner than before.  

Words failed her. She had imagined countless things to say upon reuniting, but seeing Luna safe and sound overwhelmed her, and all those thoughts vanished.  

Since becoming a knight, she had lived only for this moment. It wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say she had endured everything just for today. Only now, holding Luna in her arms, did Najane begin to forgive herself. She finally let go of the guilt for having fled alone, leaving her younger sister behind.  

Overcome with emotion, Najane’s legs gave way, and she leaned heavily on Luna. Luna, still clinging to her, wept bitterly. Hearing her sister cry, Najane laughed through her tears like a fool.  

“I’m so glad to see you again, Luna. Truly, I am… Thank you for being alive. I missed you so much… So very much…”  

Najane’s voice broke as she buried her face in Luna’s frail shoulder.  

Didina wiped away her own tears as she watched the sisters embrace and sob together. Glancing around, she noticed Maximón standing a few steps away, observing Luna with wary eyes. While Luna joyfully caressed Najane’s face with both hands, Maximón’s gaze remained cautious and guarded.

Najane’s joy was, in turn, Maximón’s happiness. But for some reason, Maximón didn’t look happy at all. Instead, he quietly alternated his gaze between Najane and Luna, his hand resting near the hilt of his sword as if ready to draw it at the slightest sign of trouble.

Didina observed Maximón’s expression as she approached the mansion. His emerald-green eyes were clouded with distrust, suspicion, hostility, and vigilance—a tangled mess of negative emotions. They scrutinized Luna with relentless intensity. This was not the forgiving gaze of a lover toward their beloved’s younger sibling.

Wiping away her tears, Didina gripped her apron anxiously. 

When Lucas had planted assassins within the Romsoa Knights, Maximón had worn a similar expression while suspecting the maids and knights. It was strange. Luna was Najane’s sister—the very person Najane had long searched for. So why was he looking at her like that?

At that moment, as if sensing her watchful gaze, Maximón silently glanced at Didina. Their eyes met, and he subtly placed a finger over his lips, signaling her to act discreetly. Didina forced a smile, hiding her unease.

Something about this situation felt deeply unsettling.