SOTBW - 240

Najane gazed silently at Luna, who was fast asleep.  

Luna had never explained exactly what had happened between her and Maximón. After her earlier slip of the tongue, Najane hadn’t pressed further—but she knew Maximón wouldn’t resort to violence without reason. Why Luna refused to elaborate on the specifics remained a mystery to Najane. Regardless of the reason, it was undeniable that Maximón had acted excessively toward her sister.  

She had thought she understood every facet of Maximón, but this incident left her disheartened.  

As Najane gently stroked Luna’s hair, her gaze fell upon the ring on her own finger. The emerald-green gemstone embedded in the band reminded her of the moment she had accepted his proposal. Slowly, the image of Maximón’s softening eyes came flooding back.  

Lowering her head, Najane dropped her gaze, overwhelmed by despair. Her body felt drained from the weight of the situation.  

Sighing heavily, she turned her attention to the crackling flames dancing in the fireplace.  

While supporting Luna and descending the path, Najane had deliberately avoided meeting the persistent gaze boring into the back of her neck. She knew Maximón was standing there, watching her grow smaller in the distance—but she couldn’t bring herself to look back.  

Afraid of hurting Luna, who could only cling to her as a sister, Najane had forced herself to keep walking forward, even though she knew it might feel like betrayal or disappointment to Maximón.  

Biting down hard on her lip, Najane fixed her wavering gaze on the flickering fire. Evening had fallen without her noticing; despite skipping lunch, she was too consumed by sadness to feel hunger. It was as if all her senses had frozen during the time Maximón confronted Luna.  

Rubbing her dry face with her hands, Najane carefully tucked a blanket around Luna. Remembering Luna’s desperate plea to leave everything behind made her dizzy. Swallowing hard against the nausea, she gazed sorrowfully at her small, beautiful sister before quietly rising to her feet.  

Though she wanted to stay by Luna’s side until she woke up, Najane loved Maximón just as much. He would be waiting for her at the residence—she couldn’t leave him alone any longer.  

After stacking another pile of thick logs in the fireplace, Najane glanced back at Luna one last time. Her steps were heavy as she prepared to leave. Before stepping out of the room, she returned to Luna, pressing a gentle kiss to her cool forehead.  

After caressing Luna’s face for a long moment, Najane finally tore her reluctant gaze away and stepped out of the maid’s quarters. Outside, twilight had already descended, casting shadows over the grounds.  

As Najane stared into the dimming darkness, she realized belatedly that she had forgotten her coat in Luna’s room. But instead of going back, she continued walking. Returning to Luna now felt like it would mean never making it back to the residence.  

Each time the biting wind slashed across her cheeks, her breath caught in her throat. All the while, she thought about Maximón. She agonized over how to reconcile him and Luna, but no solution seemed possible in her current state of mind.  

Brushing her wind-tousled hair back with her hand, Najane looked up at the hill. Every window of the residence glowed warmly with an orange hue.  

After a brief hesitation, she entered the building. Pulling the icy doorknob down, a metallic click echoed through the air. At that moment, hurried footsteps approached the door.  

Even after releasing the handle, the door swung open on its own. Maximón stood there, his face pale, staring down at her. He hadn’t prepared to head out to the field yet, which was unusual for this time of day.  

He said nothing, simply gazing at her intently. His eyes brimmed with anxiety and impatience as they lingered on her face.  

Standing at the threshold, he suddenly noticed she wasn’t wearing a coat. Startled, Maximón shifted slightly to the side, gesturing for her to come in.  

But Najane didn’t move. She simply bowed her head, staring at the tips of her shoes. Maximón watched her silently, his trembling gaze eventually extending a hesitant hand toward her. It shook faintly.  

Najane met his gaze with red-rimmed eyes, swollen from crying with Luna. Even in the dim light, she could see the way his eyes shrank with unease. Her throat tightened at the sight, and she fought back the sting in her nose as she took his hand.  

Maximón carefully guided her inside. Though he wanted to grip her hand tightly, he held her fingers stiffly, afraid she might pull away.  

Looking at Maximón acting like a guilty child, Najane’s emotions surged, and tears spilled over. He tensed, fearing she might leave him right then and there. Despite the ring still gleaming on her finger—a symbol of their bond—he behaved as though he would have no choice but to let her go if she decided to leave.  

As Najane moved toward the entrance hall, she finally broke down, unable to hold back her overwhelming grief. Just as tears streamed down her face, a biting gust slammed the heavy door shut with a loud bang.  

The two collapsed into each other’s arms. Maximón finally relaxed as he felt her arms wrap tightly around his neck.  

He buried his nose and lips in her cold forehead. When his lips brushed against her temple, where her pulse throbbed faintly, Najane leaned deeper into his embrace. His broad chest gradually soaked with her tears, but Maximón did nothing except hold her close.  

The sound of her muffled sobs echoed through the dark hallway. Her exhausted cries stirred something deep within Maximón’s chest. There was nothing he could say—no explanation for what had happened earlier, no confession of his feelings. Anything he said now would only hurt her more.

Maximón was satisfied simply by Najane’s return to the residence. If he couldn’t resolve things with Luna, then all he could do was bow lower still. He swore not to bring any more sorrow to Najane, no matter how abject or pathetic it made him seem. Even if it meant kneeling naked like a slave in front of a crowd, as long as it brought a smile to her face, he would gladly do so.

Pride had no place in making the woman he loved happy. Even if the fault wasn’t his, if apologizing could ease her sadness, he was willing to chip away at whatever self-respect he had left. As long as Najane stayed by his side, smiling and content, Maximón was prepared to discard every part of himself that composed his being.

“I’m sorry,” Maximón whispered, offering no excuses or justifications.

“…I’m sorry for what I did to your sister.”

His voice trembled, as though clinging to someone trying to escape. Najane swallowed hard, feeling as though her entire body might collapse under the weight of her emotions. She knew exactly what kind of anguish lay behind his apology—and knowing it so well made it almost impossible to breathe, her chest aching unbearably.

Najane reached out with fingers stiff from the cold, groping through the darkness. When she gently touched the face she adored so much, she felt him close his eyes tightly.

“It’s all my fault.”

At the lifeless tone of her voice, Najane lifted herself up on her knees and pulled Maximón’s face into her arms.

“…Maximón.”

“…It’s all my fault.”

Holding the disheartened Maximón close, Najane pressed her lips to his scalp, his forehead, and followed the curve of his face. Her trembling hands cupped his cheeks, brushing against his tear-soaked eyelids, the corners of his eyes, his chilled skin, and finally his lips. When she leaned in earnestly to kiss him, Maximón gripped her hands tightly.

Without hesitation, their fingers intertwined firmly. Maximón received her kiss like a docile lamb. The tears mingling on their lips were cold and bitter, but their gazes remained brimming with unwavering affection.

“Tell me what happened.”

“…”

“I have the right to know, don’t I?”

But Maximón remained silent. Najane instinctively sensed that he was staying quiet for her sake. Though he could be aloof and cold toward others, he wasn’t the type to act mercilessly without reason.

Najane suspected that Luna must have said something wrong to provoke him, and sighed softly.

They had only just reunited, yet Luna often put Najane in difficult situations. Her changed personality and manner of speaking were prime examples.

From a young age, Najane had shouldered the responsibility of loving and protecting her sister in Nellis’ stead, indulging most of Luna’s whims. But Luna had always been polite.

This wasn’t Najane being biased—Luna truly was like that. Though Luna used to complain whenever Najane secretly practiced swordsmanship, deep down, it was always out of concern for her.

Still, Najane noticed the change in Luna but refused to view it negatively. After being sold into slavery and enduring unspeakable horrors, the fact that Luna hadn’t taken her own life was already something to be grateful for. Accepting this new version of Luna was simply part of being a good older sister.

Thinking back to Luna sobbing uncontrollably in the maid’s quarters made Najane’s chest tighten painfully, as if choked. Yet she couldn’t leave Maximón.

She wanted to pave the way for Luna to live peacefully even after she was gone. As a sister, she wanted to grant most of Luna’s requests—but leaving the Romsoa Knights was something she couldn’t agree to.

The memory of Maximón’s fierce figure, ready to kill Luna, still sent shivers down her spine. And yet, Najane wanted to die by his side, holding his hand, hearing his whispered words of love in her final moments…

Najane was already deeply embedded in Maximón’s world. They had naturally become one. Even if death separated them physically forever, their hearts could never be torn apart.

Of course, such thoughts inflicted unbearable pain on Najane, whose body and mind were frail. It was agony far worse than coughing blood. But on the day she decided to marry him, Najane had accepted her fate.

“Let’s go to the sofa. It’s too cold here…”

Najane asked in a hoarse voice. Maximón lifted her into his arms and stood up.

Opening the door released a wave of warmth that melted their frozen bodies. Only then did Najane see Maximón’s face clearly in the light. His slightly deflated expression tugged at her heartstrings.

He kissed the hand caressing his cheek before walking over to the sofa. Gently laying Najane down, he covered her with a thick blanket and handed her a warm drink that had been simmering on the hearth.

Najane sipped the warm drink, gradually calming her agitated mind. Maximón knelt before her, gazing at her with a look of deep affection, before resting his head on her abdomen, which was covered by the blanket.  

She felt his hair being gently tousled by her fingers. The playful yet tender way her fingertips brushed through his hair from crown to forehead felt soothing. Maximón closed his eyes, savoring the sensation.  

“I’ll apologize to Luna.”  

“You don’t have to,” Najane replied unexpectedly.  

Startled by her response, Maximón lifted his head to look at her.