SOTBW - 212

Didina led Luna to a room at the end of the hallway. The quarters where the maids stayed were spacious, designed for five or six people to share, with a larger fireplace and a more comfortable atmosphere. Luna seemed pleased at the idea of having such a large room to herself.

As Didina placed firewood into the hearth, she glanced cautiously at Luna.

“Do you need anything?”

“Not at all.”

Luna perched on one of the beds, choosing the one farthest from the fireplace and closest to the window.

“It’ll be cold there at night,” Didina advised gently.

Without turning to look at her, Luna responded coolly while gazing out the window.

“That’s why I like it.”

Her strange reply puzzled Didina, who tilted her head slightly as she watched Luna’s back. She wondered if asking why she liked the cold would yield an answer—or if she’d simply be ignored. Luna didn’t seem to care about Didina’s presence at all, treating her as though she were invisible.

Luna exuded an eerie aura so unlike Najane’s sister that it was hard to believe they were related. Their appearances bore no resemblance, and their personalities were polar opposites—so much so that one might doubt they were truly family. At that moment, Didina began to understand why Maximón had regarded Luna with such wary eyes.

After smoothing out the thick quilt, Didina stared at Luna’s back. Luna sat motionless, seemingly detached from the world as she gazed out the window. Didina had expected to find similarities between Najane and her sister—but found none.

Fussing over the wrinkles in the blanket, Didina tilted her head again. Luna didn’t turn around even after Didina finished preparing the bed and announced she was leaving. There was no response—no acknowledgment whatsoever—as if Didina’s words hadn’t reached her ears.

Once the door closed, Luna, who had been sitting still like a statue, finally turned her head. Now alone, she scanned the room with sharp eyes before running her fingers along the wooden-paneled walls. The maids were away, busy with their chores, leaving Luna by herself.

But Luna remained cautious, waiting until Didina’s presence faded completely. Only when every trace of living energy had vanished did Luna rise quietly from the bed.

Using her nails, Luna etched a large, perfect circle onto the wall. Inside it, she inscribed intricate patterns and cryptic symbols. The enormous magic circle, which filled the space beside the bed, gradually blurred and disappeared as though it had never existed.

Unsatisfied with just one, Luna covered every wall with similar magic circles. Obsessively, she filled the room with large and small circles, each adorned with complex designs. Though the completed magic circles vanished like mirages, they would reappear instantly if mana were used.

Standing in the center of the room, Luna finally relaxed, stretching her arms toward the ceiling with a broad smile. At least within this maid’s quarters, no one would suspect or think twice about her. A faint madness shimmered in her crimson eyes.

“…Emaydis. I’ve waited so long for this moment. You have no idea how happy I am right now.”

Though the voice came from Luna’s lips, it wasn’t her own. Excited, Kieron laughed crudely, dragging his hands down his face as if shedding a mask.

Luna’s beautiful features melted like clay, transforming into those of a stranger. The figure examined her reflection in the window with interest before shifting back into Luna’s form.

Thinking of Najane’s tears brought another wave of laughter. Disguised as Luna, Kieron spun in circles like someone dancing, smiling blissfully.

---

Maximón rested briefly in the commander’s chamber. Stretching his legs out on the low table, he rubbed his temples and exhaled deeply. He wasn’t physically tired, but his mind was unsettled—thanks to Luna.

He revisited the moment he encountered her, even entertaining the possibility that jealousy might have driven him mad. The rough, sack-like texture contained what appeared to be a person—but it was already dead.

He had known immediately. Whether or not it was Najane’s long-lost sister, the fact remained: it was a corpse moving as if alive.

Such a thing was unprecedented. A walking, talking corpse—it sent shivers crawling up his arms. Instinctively repulsed, Maximón had nearly drawn his sword to strike Luna down on the spot. It felt fundamentally wrong, contradictory.

Even as he brought Luna to the Romsoa Knights, part of him hoped that the being following him wasn’t Najane’s younger sister. But seeing Najane’s joy confirmed it—this was indeed Luna.

Maximón repeatedly rubbed his face in frustration. Though he had brought Luna for Najane’s sake, he lacked the confidence to face her properly. He feared he might unconsciously reveal disgust or disdain.

What had happened to Luna? Or rather, could that even be called Luna anymore? To Maximón, she seemed no less monstrous than himself.

His expression grave, Maximón stared into the flames of the fireplace. Overwhelmed by frustration, he let out a heavy sigh. Leaning his head back over the sofa’s armrest, he gazed at the stained ceiling before closing his eyes.

At least Najane was happy. Whether Luna was human or not, if just one person—Najane—found joy in her return… But still, jealousy gnawed at him. Maximón couldn’t wedge himself between Najane and Luna. That reality infuriated him.

Luna likely knew a side of Najane that Maximón didn’t—the young Najane, the teenage Najane, the Najane who trained with swords and cried when things didn’t go as planned…

Maximón imagined little Najane clumsily wielding a wooden sword and swallowed a laugh. How wonderful it would be to turn back time and witness that scene. If he could meet her younger self, he’d tell her not to pick up a sword at all. And when the time came to face Maximón Elgort in the distant future, he’d urge her to run without hesitation…

The faint smile that had flickered on his lips vanished.

Just then, a knock sounded at the door. Startled, Maximón flinched—an uncharacteristic reaction. Lost deep in thought, he hadn’t noticed anyone approaching the commander’s quarters. Yet, for some inexplicable reason, he felt certain it was Najane. The thought came to him without reason.

Rising from the sofa, Maximón approached the door. As he carefully turned the doorknob, there stood Najane, draped in the dark green cloak he had once given her.

Surprised, he swung the door wide open, and Najane immediately stepped into his arms as if she had been waiting. The cold scent of winter clung to her. Maximón instinctively pulled her close and carried her toward the fireplace. Najane’s eyes were red and swollen, evidence that she had continued crying after he left the residence.

Maximón brushed his lips against her damp, tear-streaked cheeks.

“If you’d contacted me through the maids, I would’ve come… wherever you were.”

He disliked the lingering chill emanating from her body. No matter where she called him—from this residence or even hell itself—he would have rushed to her side without hesitation.

He seated her on the warm sofa, pressing kisses to her chilled forehead and temples. He seemed determined to shower her with affection until her body warmed entirely.

When his playful kisses reached her ear, Najane giggled uncontrollably and pushed him away, ticklish. Ignoring her resistance, Maximón kissed the fingers she used to push him. Smiling softly, Najane gently stroked his lips with her fingertips.

“I came because I kept thinking about how I hadn’t thanked you yet.”

Left alone in the residence, Najane had mulled over her complicated emotions and realized she hadn’t expressed her gratitude. She could have waited until before his next deployment, but today, loneliness had driven her to wrap herself in the cloak he gifted her and step outside.

She hadn’t gone far—just to the main building within the knights’ grounds—but four guards trailed behind her like shadows. Someone must have instructed them not to let her out of their sight.

As Najane caressed his lips, she leaned in for a soft, fleeting kiss. Though brief, Maximón’s lips curled into a satisfied smile at her initiative.

“Thank you,” Najane said earnestly.

“Thank you for finding Luna, Maximón…”

Tears welled up in her eyes again.

Maximón gently wiped away the tears that threatened to fall, whispering tenderly.

“You don’t need to thank me.”

“But still…”

“Did you talk much with your sister?”

“A little.”

“Just a little?”

“She looked so tired, so I let her rest. We’ll talk later. It’s not like we’re parting ways forever…”

Thinking of Luna stirred unease in both Maximón and Najane’s hearts.

Najane resolved to understand her sister no matter what, imagining the hardships Luna must have endured. If Mikael’s words were true, the mere fact that Luna hadn’t taken her own life was miraculous. Anyone who went through such trauma would inevitably change.

Especially someone like Luna, who had been sheltered like a delicate flower in a greenhouse, would have been profoundly shaken. Najane’s thoughts drifted to Luna’s unnervingly calm and mature demeanor, and she raised her head as Maximón’s cool hand touched her eyelids.

“Your eyes are quite swollen.”

Maximón gently stroked the area around her eyes with his chilly fingers. The cold felt soothing. Najane closed her eyes and leaned her cheek into his palm.

She had cried so much that there were no more tears left to squeeze out. Though the guilt she felt toward Luna would likely haunt her forever, Najane finally felt as if she could set down some of the burdens she had been carrying on her shoulders.

But still, she couldn’t bring herself to smile easily. The memory of Maximón’s gaze and expression when he brought up marriage lingered in her mind, tormenting her even now. Fighting back a surge of emotion, Najane looked up at Maximón. He was gently stroking her feverish forehead with the cool back of his hand.

“What are you thinking about?”

Najane asked the question almost absentmindedly, trying to calm her frequently overwhelmed heart, which seemed to grow more fragile with her weakening body. Maximón withdrew his hand slightly and met her eyes.

“I was thinking about you.”

Taken aback by the unexpected answer, Najane hesitated. Maximón cupped her cheek with his palm and smiled warmly.

“I’m always thinking about you, Najane. In the most important moments of my life, and even in the trivial ones I might forget later.”

Maximón brushed her hair back and chuckled softly, looking somewhat embarrassed.

“I don’t like seeing you cry…”

He murmured quietly, pulling her into his arms. Najane covered her face with both hands, trying desperately to hold back her tears. She bit her lip hard, fearing that if she cried any more, something irreversible might happen. But the gentle kisses raining down on her head and his soothing voice made it impossible to stop.

“Are you happy?”

Maximón asked softly. Najane couldn’t find the words to respond, so she simply nodded. At her nod, Maximón finally seemed to relax. Lowering his gaze, he held her close and slowly closed his eyes.

That was enough.

If Najane was happy, then whatever Luna had become didn’t matter…