SOTBW - 237

Maximón walked while gazing at the residence’s roof, now blanketed with freshly fallen snow. The thought that he had done something Najane would praise lifted his spirits slightly.  

The reason Maximón had helped the young maid was remarkably simple. She was one of the maids who had clumsily fumbled around the residence the day before and been scolded by Didiña—someone Najane had watched with both pity and fondness.  

Najane often felt sorry for the younger maids working so hard with their rough, calloused hands. That was all there was to it. He didn’t want Najane to feel sad knowing that the maid had been mistreated by the head chef. If Najane ever found out what he had done, she would surely be pleased.  

Lost in imagining Najane’s bright smile, Maximón glanced down at his gloved right hand. Removing the thick glove revealed a ring sparkling on his finger.  

He raised the ring to admire how the gemstone shimmered in the light. Knowing that Najane wore a matching ring made him grin uncontrollably. Oblivious to how foolish his smile might look, Maximón repeatedly curled and uncurled his fingers, watching the sunlight dance between them.  

Perhaps it was the dazzling brightness of the sun, but everything from yesterday felt like a dream. Just recalling Najane asking him to become her husband made his heart race wildly.  

Unconsciously, he let out a soft chuckle, then quickly clamped his mouth shut, relieved no one was around to hear it.  

Careful not to lose the ring, Maximón pulled his glove back on and resumed walking toward the residence. As he stood quietly amidst the tranquil field, he imagined Najane wearing a wedding dress.  

Considering the winter season and Najane’s fragile health, he initially thought of a conservative design that covered her up to just below the chin. But since the ceremony would take place indoors, he decided an off-the-shoulder dress revealing her delicate shoulders and collarbones wouldn’t be inappropriate either.  

However, the thought of fools staring at Najane’s pale skin irritated him. In a sudden fit of possessiveness, he envisioned covering her exposed shoulders and arms with intricate lace embroidery. Of course, none of this included Najane’s input, but Maximón planned to buy every dress that suited her anyway. Gifts were a given, and he would commission new jewelry to match the wedding gown as well.  

Had he ever felt this elated in his life? Smiling so much that he had to cover his mouth with his hand, he was more intoxicated with happiness now than when Najane had confessed her love to him.  

The mere thought of buying a sunny house outside Noctis Fortress and spending their honeymoon there, decorating everything exactly as Najane wished—curtains, carpets, wallpaper, artwork, wooden furniture with various leg designs, even the bed placement and sofa material—made his face light up involuntarily.  

As Maximón climbed the hill already swept clean by the servants, lost in these pleasant fantasies, he suddenly sensed an eerie atmosphere and snapped his head up. Someone stood coldly along the path leading to the residence.  

Stopping in his tracks, Maximón stared dryly at Luna, his cheerful mood vanishing without a trace. Luna, standing askew with an expressionless face, narrowed her eyes at him.  

Maximón wrinkled his nose as he caught the faint stench of decay mixed with the biting north wind. He didn’t need to search for its source—it was unmistakable.  

No matter how he thought about it, it was strange. A corpse masquerading as a living being, essentially dead yet somehow alive—how could someone like Luna, Najane’s supposed younger sister, even exist? Maximón couldn’t comprehend it.  

It was a sight he had never encountered before. The very concept of a “living corpse” was contradictory, yet here she stood before him. He felt a violent urge to strike her neck and end whatever semblance of life remained.  

This wasn’t jealousy over Najane’s affection for Luna or some base desire to harm her. It was pure revulsion toward something that shouldn’t exist.  

Though Maximón vaguely believed Luna would bring misfortune to this place, he hesitated to act because Najane seemed to find peace in seeing her. Still, if Luna caused any trouble, even Maximón—devoted entirely to Najane—might bury that thing back in the ground.  

Anyone would think like Maximón upon encountering a rotting corpse pretending to be human. At least Maximón suppressed his disgust out of a sense of duty not to upset Najane further.  

His gaze sharpened involuntarily as he scrutinized Luna. She paused halfway up the hill toward the residence, meeting his piercing stare head-on.  

Maximón silently continued climbing the path. Standing beside Luna, the smell of decaying flesh assaulted his senses—a scent others clearly couldn’t detect.  

Luna looked up at him boldly, her demeanor completely different from when they first met. Had she been pretending to be timid back then? The realization that it had all been an act made Maximón’s brow furrow.  

“Do you touch my sister every day?”  

Luna spoke first. For a moment, Maximón didn’t grasp the meaning behind her words, but then he murmured, “Ah,” in understanding. Her phrasing was oddly cute—and somewhat ridiculous.

He found himself curious about what grotesque thoughts could prompt such a rude question from a corpse, and he responded with a chilling smile.  

“Not every day—about once every two days.”  

Maximón’s reply was laced with mockery, as if teasing a child. Luna didn’t flinch or blush; instead, she smirked, as though she had expected him to respond brazenly.  

“Even though you’re not married yet, don’t you know that doing such things only embarrasses my sister?”  

“I’m aware of that, which is why I proposed to Najane. We’ll be holding the wedding soon.”  

“...A wedding?”  

For the briefest moment, Luna’s face twisted into something ugly.  

Noticing that fleeting expression, Maximón tilted his head and pressed her further, his tone probing.  

“Are you not happy for your sister’s marriage?”  

Leaning in to meet her gaze, Maximón scrutinized Luna, trying to uncover her true feelings. Luna didn’t avoid his stare.  

Her crimson eyes, identical to Najane’s, shimmered darkly, concealing sincerity and truth. To Maximón, that gaze felt not just uncomfortable but utterly repulsive. The more they spoke, the stronger his conviction grew: this being before him was no sibling of Najane’s.  

Lifting his chin, Maximón curled his lips into a sneer, treating her like a petulant child who couldn’t bear to lose.  

“Najane happily accepted my proposal. If you truly love your sister, you should bless this union—as any proper younger sister would.”  

“But you were already engaged to someone else.”  

“We’ve broken off the engagement.”  

“Are you sure about that?”  

Luna’s question followed immediately after his words, as if she were searching for some leverage—something she could use to stir trouble between him and Najane. Maximón looked down at her with derision.  

“Whether it’s certain or not is none of your concern.”  

“What an irresponsible statement.”  

“If you think so, there’s nothing I can do about it. But I love Najane, and I’ll take full responsibility for our relationship. I’m prepared to give her everything I have.”  

His heart… Maximón thought of the red organ hidden in the basement. If it meant Najane could live, he would gladly offer even the heart beating inside his chest right now. He smoothed his flat chest and offered a faint smile.  

Luna felt a deep sense of deprivation upon realizing their bond was stronger than she had anticipated. How furious she had been when she learned Emaydis and Sainth were destined to reunite. While she and her master had suffered for thousands of years, bound by the tragedy of that day…  

Kieron resented how those two souls always gravitated toward each other, no matter how many lifetimes passed. It filled him with bitterness, despair, and envy.  

When he learned that Mahilen had created Maximón using Sainth’s soul, Kieron had long agonized over his own inadequacies and ignorance. Yet no matter how hard he tried, he could never surpass that dragon. While he managed to mimic some of Mahilen’s abilities, surpassing them remained eternally impossible.  

Bersha, still partially sealed, didn’t even recognize Kieron anymore. Every day, it writhed in hunger, tearing apart its own limbs to devour them. Kieron yearned for his master to look at him warmly again, as he once had. That was all he wanted—but for thousands of years, nothing had changed.  

Bersha continued to suffer, and Kieron remained trapped alongside it, flailing helplessly in the void. The thought of his sister, who had driven him and his master into this abyss, shamelessly reincarnating and falling in love with Sainth once more made him gag with disgust. Beyond anger, a profound sense of futility washed over him.  

That’s why Kieron had inscribed the curse of the he-goat onto Najane’s body. He wanted Maximón to treat her like a whore. He wished for hatred, not love—for the two to exploit and torment each other until one of them died miserably.  

‘...Why did you kill Sainth?’  

Kieron, consumed by hatred, suddenly shuddered. His once-mocking eyes dimmed instantly.  

He recalled Emaydis, cradling the severed head of Sainth, staring at him with hollow eyes. Remembering her empty gaze, voice, and expression, Kieron recoiled like a child caught stealing.  

I didn’t do anything wrong. If you had just helped me willingly, none of this would have happened. This is your fault. I… I…  

Ah, why did I do it? Why did I commit such an act? I just wanted Mother to regret abandoning me… I wanted to hear her say she was sorry for using us like lab rats…

In order to surpass that person, I had no choice... That’s right, Master said that the Absolute Taboo was the only thing forbidden. But I... I don’t know anymore... I don’t understand anything, Emaydis. We...

As his memories swirled chaotically, Kieron stared at his palm with a confused expression. Suddenly, his white palm was drenched in blood—an illusion.

Kieron slowly clenched and unclenched his hand, sticky with crimson, before raising his head with a vacant gaze. Beyond Maximón’s broad back, he saw Bersha sprawled across the snowy field. All around, black soot from some explosion filled the air, and Bersha had shielded Kieron with its entire body.

Kieron tried to lift Bersha but soon realized something was terribly wrong. The innards spilling out beneath it… the blood soaking the ground until it turned muddy… His master’s lower body was gone.

In that moment, tears welled up at the corners of Luna’s eyes, snapping her out of her daze. Maximón, who had been watching Luna’s unusually prolonged silence, was taken aback by her sudden tears.