SOTBW - 221

Amelia gazed at Najane, who was dozing off on the couch. In front of the warm glow emanating from the fireplace, it was rare for anyone to resist the pull of a nap. Especially on such a chilly day, watching the crackling flames often lulled people into a peaceful slumber, providing one of the few comforts of a lonely winter.

After draping a blanket over Najane, Amelia placed a sandwich she had made on the table. It was her first time in the kitchen in a while, and she had prepared it specifically for Najane. The “cooking” consisted of nothing more than stiff rye bread stuffed with pre-sliced ham, sun-dried tomatoes marinated in olive oil, and dormant lettuce. 

When Amelia mentioned it was for Najane, the head chef gladly allowed her to use mayonnaise as well. It seemed even the kitchen staff knew that Najane didn’t have much time left.

Crouching in front of the sleeping Najane, Amelia became lost in thought. Watching Najane’s serene face brought back memories of her standing firm against the Serith fluid, her blade illuminating the damp, dark basement with radiant light—like the primordial light that must have filled the universe at its birth.

At some point, Amelia had let go of her lingering attachment to marriage. With her beauty, she could have charmed any man if she wanted to, but somewhere along the way, the idea began to feel meaningless.

Of course, building a family and having children was no small feat. Amelia respected those who found good partners and became loving wives and mothers.

But ever since she took up the sword, she began to question whether finding a man and getting married had to be her ultimate goal. Reflecting on it now, Najane hadn’t obsessed over her appearance during her time as a knight either.

Najane was simply Najane. And Maximón loved her—not the Najane who tried hard to be loved, but the Najane who embraced what life gave her and strove to become a better person.

Perhaps this was the kind of person Amelia aspired to be.

Someone as cool and admirable as Najane. Someone strong, someone who didn’t run away. Someone who stood their ground instead of fleeing alone when others depended on them.

Amelia tilted her head slightly and smiled softly as she looked at Najane.

“You have to live a long time, Najane. Stay alive until I can help you… for a very, very long time.”

After gazing at the peacefully sleeping Najane for a moment, Amelia quietly left the residence.

As the old, creaky door groaned from years of moisture-induced decay, Najane stirred, her thin shoulders trembling as she slowly opened her eyes.

Realizing she had dozed off, Najane rubbed her dry lips and adjusted her posture. She looked down at the blanket covering her with a puzzled expression, then noticed the sandwich on the table. Thinking it might be dinner time, she glanced outside—but it was still bright.

Confused, Najane took a bite of the sandwich. The rye bread, generously spread with mayonnaise, wasn’t stiff at all. As she chewed slowly, she tilted her head and examined the contents.

If it had been Didina, she wouldn’t have just left a sandwich. There would have been herbal tea, honey-sweetened milk, or perhaps a light soup. And she would have gently woken Najane, saying it was time to eat.

Najane blinked, recalling the sound of the door opening and closing. There was only one person she knew who would quietly enter the residence, leave a sandwich, and slip away without a word.

Setting the sandwich down, Najane rushed out of the house. She spotted Amelia descending the hill. The guards stationed outside tried to stop her, warning her not to go out so lightly dressed, but Najane ignored them and ran down the snow-covered path.

There had been a time when Amelia came running like this before. She had dashed straight to Najane, pulling her into a tight embrace and sobbing uncontrollably.

Though others criticized Amelia for being a nuisance, Najane cherished her as her one and only friend. Amelia was truly a wonderful person—kind, cheerful, and resilient, always rising after falling.

Which was why Najane couldn’t shake the ominous feeling that came over her when she saw the sandwich Amelia had carefully made with limited ingredients, only to leave it behind.

“Amelia!”

At Najane’s shout, Amelia turned around, startled like a rabbit caught in headlights. Najane stopped in front of her, coughing suddenly.

The itch in her throat triggered a small cough, but the taste of blood filled her mouth. She clenched her teeth tightly to hide the blood-soaked enamel and forced a calm smile. Amelia stared at her, wide-eyed, as if surprised she was already awake.

Najane licked her teeth clean with her tongue and took Amelia’s hand. The smell of blood lingered in her nostrils. The partially chewed sandwich threatened to come back up, but Najane kept her composure and spoke steadily.

“You’re leaving Romsoa?”

Amelia flinched at Najane’s words.

“How did you know?”

“You’re becoming a priest, aren’t you?”

“What? Are you reading my mind?”

When Amelia looked startled, as if she had seen a ghost, Najane burst out laughing.

“I left the sandwich behind.”

“Yeah, you did…”

“You thought you wouldn’t be able to make one for me later, so you left it?”

“Exactly.”

Amelia answered with a sense of relief, clasping Najane’s hands with both of hers.

“I’ve decided to become a disciple of Prelate Spello. I’ll be incredibly busy for a while. Of course, I’ll try to visit you whenever I can.”

“So your training…”

“I’ll keep going. I’m going to become a priest who fights on the battlefield.”

At the mention of a “fighting priest,” Najane tilted her head in confusion. She wasn’t sure what exactly that meant, but it seemed like Amelia intended to continue guarding the fields.

“Fighting against the Serith... aren’t you scared?”

“Of course, I’m scared. They’re honestly disgusting.”

Amelia shuddered jokingly as she recalled the wraiths, then chuckled softly.

“But it’s okay. I’m not the only one who’s afraid. Turns out, everyone is scared of the Serith.”

With a simple smile, Amelia pressed her forehead against Najane’s. She didn’t say anything about living until she could create a new healing ritual. Instead, she just closed her eyes briefly while holding Najane’s hand.

The snowflakes abandoned by soldiers sparkled around them like shards of diamonds. A cold breeze brushed past their skirts, but strangely, it didn’t feel all that cold. Perhaps it was because of the midday sunlight pouring down on Najane and Amelia.

But Amelia couldn’t help her nose reddening at the thought of truly leaving the Knights of Romsoa—and Najane—behind. Though she didn’t cry, her eyes gradually grew red.

Najane cupped Amelia’s cheeks. There was no need to be sad. This wasn’t a farewell. It was finally time to see off a ship setting sail, its sails unfurled to leave the island.

Without a word, Najane pulled Amelia into an embrace. She decided not to ask why Amelia had resolved to become a priest. If Amelia ever felt she absolutely couldn’t go through with it, they could run away together. Running away wouldn’t be so bad if they did it together instead of alone.

“Amelia, from today onward, I’ll pray for you every day.”

“Thank you… I’ll offer prayers for you every night too, Najane.”

Amelia gazed into Najane’s eyes one last time before turning her back.

Najane stood amidst the snow, watching Amelia walk down the path. Though a smile lingered on her lips, her nose tingled oddly.

To keep from crying on such a beautiful day, Najane tightly shut her mouth. And fearing Amelia might look back, she kept waving her hand toward the retreating figure.

Najane knew Amelia wouldn’t turn around. Even though she knew, she waved until her fingers went numb in the cold wind, admiring how beautiful it was for her friend to choose and take responsibility for her own path.

Perhaps Amelia would live and die as a priest. Najane didn’t know why, but she believed it wholeheartedly.

As Najane watched Amelia leave without any lingering regrets, she suddenly clamped her hand over her mouth. The cough she had been suppressing erupted again, and blood pooled in her palm.

Letting out a long sigh, Najane stared at the blood staining her hand. A life without regrets was truly difficult. Weakly turning her body toward the direction of the castle, she reflected on the life she had lived.

Regret… the regrets I’ve left behind…

“When spring comes, let’s ride horses outside the Noctis Fortress and live there. There are many flowering trees, so the scenery will always be beautiful.”

Najane remembered Maximón’s proposal. When he asked her to marry him, his smile was gentle, and his gaze was deeply earnest. It wasn’t a proposal meant as a final gift for her dying days—it was Maximón’s genuine wish to become her husband, separate from everything else.

She never expected to hear the word “marriage” from Maximón, nor had she ever considered it for herself, so she was quite flustered. And as always, her answer was already decided: refusal. Repeated refusals. Endless refusals…

If her body had been healthy, would she have accepted his proposal? Najane hadn’t thought about marriage even when she lived in Kalonosia. She had assumed she couldn’t marry because of her inability to menstruate. While she had imagined dating a kind and wonderful man, marriage? Never crossed her mind.

If only I could just keep living like this, slowly and gradually tidying up my life while looking out for Luna. I want my death to be like a passing season for the people around me—something that drifts by unnoticed. When winter comes again, I hope they’ll suddenly remember me, Najane, and then return to their daily lives without a second thought.

“…What if I were to die tomorrow? What would you do then?”

“If that happens, I’ll hold you close and climb into the coffin with you. It’ll be colder beneath the gravestone, so I can’t let you go alone.”

Najane trembled as she entered the residence. With every step, Maximón’s words from that day came flooding back. She stared at the blood on her palm, which had dried stiff in the cold wind, and rubbed her eyes with her other hand.

Her body felt unbearably heavy, as though weighed down by lead, sinking into the ocean. Even though it was her own body, she couldn’t control it anymore. The realization that her days were numbered began to sink in, slow but undeniable.

Najane wanted to go sit on the warm sofa and thaw her freezing body, but her trembling legs wouldn’t cooperate. She collapsed against the middle gate, unable to move further. She buried her face in her knees, hugging them close.

Whenever her body started hurting again, the carefully contained emotions she’d managed to soothe would burst forth like water rushing through a broken dam. In moments like these, when she couldn’t even move on her own, she hated herself for finally admitting her lingering attachments.

Truthfully, Najane wanted to marry Maximón too. How could she not? Though she resented him for hiding secrets about the Qi, she could forgive him.

Even without Najane imposing punishment, Maximón was destined to live forever tormented by the guilt of having driven her to death. At least, if he truly loved her, that suffering was inevitable.

Between leaving no personal regrets and sparing Maximón greater self-reproach, Najane chose the latter. Imagining Maximón left alone after marriage made it impossible for her to accept his proposal.

If only she lacked the ability to imagine such outcomes, perhaps she might have accepted Maximón’s proposal. Ironically, it was precisely because she loved him that she had to refuse. Najane, clinging to her emaciating body despite eating as much as she could, swallowed a painful breath.

“I love you.”

“I love you, Najane.”

“It was a lie when I said I didn’t love you…”

“…I love you.”

“I love you, I love you, I love you, Najane… please…”

You foolish person.

Najane quietly swallowed her tears.

Thankfully, there was no one else in the residence.