No Man's Land and the Knight (2)
The campfire crackled, spitting sparks into the night. Maxim froze in place, pinned by the weight of Theodora's gaze. No insects chirped, no birds called—only the crushing silence of the wasteland pressed down on them, louder than any noise. Maxim rose from his seat. There was nothing to hand over to the next watch. After all, this was a sentry post in a place where nothing lived. What was there to report?
He moved to walk past Theodora and return to his tent.
“...Wait.”
Until she stopped him.
Maxim could never disobey Theodora. The flames danced, casting ruddy waves across her platinum hair. He turned on his heel and walked back toward the fire.
“Let’s talk.”
Theodora sat in the small, worn wooden chair where Maxim had been. She wore her uniform with strict adherence to regulation. He wanted to ask if it wasn’t uncomfortable. Instead, he perched on a small boulder beside her chair. It felt hard and cold. The fire continued to burn.
Theodora stared into the flames. Maxim couldn’t tell why she had stopped him or what words she wanted to hear. She lifted the half-canteen warming over the fire and poured tea into her cup—something to ward off drowsiness. Steam curled upward from her mug.
“I…”
“Don’t say you have nothing to talk about. That’s not why I stopped you.”
Theodora. What remained in that voice now? The faint trace of anger woven through it terrified him. Maxim hated how pathetic he was—too cowardly even to earn her hatred. Even though she had finally begun to despise him exactly as he had wished, the declaration brought him no peace.
He hid his trembling hands behind his back. Emil Bourdin’s mocking words resurfaced.
Before that line grows blurred, before it all becomes hopelessly tangled… we need to make her choose a side. Clearly.
Well done, Emil Bourdin. It turned out exactly as you and the Count wanted.
Look, you bastards. Theodora truly hates me now.
Maxim turned to face her. Theodora did not avert her eyes. She showed no awkwardness. What reflected in those eyes held no intent to kill, only fury, hatred, and a faint trace of disappointment.
“I won’t ask about me. Just answer this.”
The fire crackled again.
“Have you really… forgotten everything? The knighthood, the sword—does none of it matter to you anymore?”
He knew. Theodora was searching him right now. Those gray eyes swirling like storm clouds were trying to read his true intentions. That was why Maxim refused to meet her gaze.
“You don’t even want to answer?”
“I forgot.”
For once, Maxim’s voice did not shake.
“Look me in the eye and say it, Maxim Apparte.”
Theodora. He knew he shouldn’t turn, yet the command pulled his head around before he could stop it. The memory of the selection test’s pouring rain returned. Theodora asking why he wouldn’t draw his Aura Blade. The memory of how he had no choice but to refuse the conversation of swords.
“I’m asking if the knight I knew—the Maxim Apparte who was a true knight—has disappeared.”
Those words cut sharper than any blade in the world. Maxim hesitated to speak. He should say the boy who dreamed of knighthood was dead. But he couldn’t bring himself to utter it. He didn’t know how her eyes would change once he spoke, so the words stuck in his throat.
“...Answer me.”
Why am I so weak?
Maxim looked at her face. Her lips formed a straight line, but it trembled at the edges. Her eyes were unnaturally clear. Her furrowed brows twitched. She always wore that expression when she wanted to cry.
“He’s gone.”
Maxim finally spoke. Had he found the courage to be hated? No. He simply couldn’t bear seeing that look on her face. So he spoke, telling a calm lie to make her heart lighter.
“Theodora, the Maxim Apparte you knew no longer exists.”
“So money and power were all you ever wanted?”
Is that why you met me? Is that why you left so easily when the engagement was offered?
Theodora asked without words. If he gave the answer she expected, she would hate him. Perhaps even truly despise him. Maxim wasn’t ready for that. But he knew the world did not turn on readiness alone.
“Yes.”
He expected a slap. Yet his cheek remained untouched. Maybe she was crying. He studied her face carefully, but there were no tears. Instead, the opposite. She wore the cold expression of someone whose tear ducts had long since dried up.
“I understand.”
Those final words drove a nail into his chest. Maxim knew it was done. Theodora would hate him now—perhaps even loathe him. After her answer, silence returned to the camp.
Theodora wrapped both hands around her still-steaming cup.
“You’ve done enough. Go rest.”
Maxim rose unsteadily. It hurt far more than he had expected. Clutching his ringing head with one hand, he walked away.
==
A conversation was necessary.
Theodora had thought so ever since meeting Emil Bourdin at the palace. The engagement she had only heard about through Maxim’s mouth—especially an engagement to a branch family of the Benning house—had finally become a visible, tangible reality.
Maxim. Maxim Apparte.
Theodora walked through the garden, repeating the name endlessly. He had lifted her from the bottom only to hurl her into another abyss. She had to face him somehow. She needed to drag herself out of this emotional vortex, even if by force. To do that, she had to meet him one more time.
Or perhaps that was only an excuse. Theodora already had more than enough reasons to hate Maxim. Her heart was simply reluctant to accept one-sided hatred. Having never truly resented or hated anyone in her life, the emotion felt foreign. Part of her wanted to hate him while another part wished she wouldn’t. That was why, before she sank any deeper into the swamp, Theodora had to make herself truly hate him.
I must twist this feeling, even if I have to force it.
On the day they set out for No Man's Land, Theodora had made that vow to herself. A single conversation would be enough. She needed to convince herself that what she felt when she saw him was hatred.
She had deliberately arranged to take over the night watch from Maxim. She didn’t want others watching them talk. If he refused to speak? If he avoided her words entirely? Then she would simply have to hate him.
With that thought, Theodora had tried to sleep. Of course, she hadn’t slept at all.
Rubbing her tired eyes, she woke in her tent. The wasteland, where only the wind could be heard, was not a good place for rest. The time for the shift change was approaching. Before Maxim could come wake her, Theodora opened the tent flap and stepped out first.
Maxim was prodding the firewood with a stick, adjusting it. His light brown hair was roughly swept back, and he sat in the chair with a calm expression. The sight of him up close reminded her, for a fleeting moment, of the old Maxim. The very image she had thought no longer existed appeared before her, and Theodora denied it. It was only an illusion. Her task was to clarify her feelings toward this man.
At that moment, Maxim lifted his head. Their eyes met at an unexpected instant.
“...”
“...”
Silence stretched between them. Neither spoke first. Maxim watched her for a moment, then stood and headed for his tent. In that instant, Theodora had to fight the urge to strike him.
“...Wait.”
She stopped his steps.
“Let’s talk.”
Maxim returned to his seat. He perched awkwardly on the rock beside the chair. Theodora poured herself tea to organize her complicated thoughts. With so few tea leaves, it was closer to hot water than actual tea. She felt Maxim glancing at her. Theodora took a sip. It was time to face him with denial.
“I…”
“Don’t say you have nothing to talk about. That’s not why I stopped you.”
Theodora forced his mouth shut. Once the first words came, the rest followed more easily.
“I won’t ask about me. Just answer this.”
The fire crackled again. Theodora was beginning to hate the sound Maxim liked so much.
“Have you really… forgotten everything? The knighthood, the sword—does none of it matter to you anymore?”
Theodora spoke, hoping he would give the answer she wanted. She hoped he would confirm it. She hoped he would make it easy for her to hate him.
No answer came for a long time. She was looking at him, but he was not looking at her. Finally, Theodora asked first.
“You don’t even want to answer?”
“I forgot.”
Again, Maxim avoided her eyes. To Theodora, it looked like he didn’t want to give an honest answer—or that the question wasn’t even worth answering. It made her angry.
“Look me in the eye and say it, Maxim Apparte.”
She hadn’t wanted to remember, but the scene from that day returned. The rainy training ground. Theodora driving him back with Aura wrapped around her blade while Maxim refused to answer with his own sword. She should have thrown it all away and hated him back then.
“I’m asking if the knight I knew—the Maxim Apparte who was a true knight—has disappeared.”
Maxim was hesitating. Theodora simply watched him. She prayed desperately that the next words from his mouth would be affirmation, that she could shed the chains of emotion and hate him purely, then forget him.
But why—why did some part of her still wish he would deny her words? Theodora didn’t know.
“...Answer me.”
A weaker sound than she intended slipped from her lips. Maxim turned to look at her.
I now deny and despise everything about this man.
Theodora waited for his answer.
“He’s gone.”
A completely dry statement fell from Maxim’s lips.
“Theodora, the Maxim Apparte you knew no longer exists.”
“So money and power were all you ever wanted?”
When Theodora pressed for confirmation, Maxim answered in an even drier voice.
“Yes.”
A frostfire bloomed in Theodora’s frozen heart. Maxim acted as if he could easily endure her hatred. Or perhaps he simply didn’t care. The frostfire burning in her chest was both cold and hot. Now she needed to add fuel so this flame could completely consume what remained of him inside her.
“I understand.”
At her words of dismissal, Maxim staggered to his feet and returned to his tent.
Maxim, do you even realize how much you have lost? Do you understand how ugly it is to remain in the Order out of desire rather than aspiration?
Theodora vowed she would not let him live the knight’s life he wanted so easily. Her eyes turned toward the tent where he would be lying down. The campfire crackled and burned on.
==
The Raven Knight Order reached the garrison in the borderlands—the Margrave’s territory—exactly on schedule. The unexpectedly large and lively appearance of the outpost left every member except Paola stunned.
Roberto kept looking around, letting out sounds that were more awe than actual words.
“Wow, I never imagined a place like this could be so full of life.”
“The support policies have taken root nicely.”
“Just a short ride from here used to be nothing but barren wasteland.”
The garrison resembled a large village. Behind the high walls that protected them from monsters, people walked the streets wearing all kinds of expressions. As the knights entered, a soldier approached and began guiding them.
“They need many soldiers, and the royal family doesn’t want these vast plains to go to waste, so they’ve been developing the area gradually. When I was stationed here before, it wasn’t nearly this prosperous.”
Paola glanced toward the walls as she spoke.
“But beyond those walls… lies an environment so brutal it makes this lively atmosphere hard to believe, along with monsters lurking everywhere.”
“How long are you going to keep talking about that mantis with the severed head?”
“You didn’t see it, so of course you can say that.”
When Roberto teased her, Paola shook her head and replied. While they exchanged such idle banter, the guiding soldier stopped in front of a two-story building.
“This is the Margrave’s residence.”
The soldier raised his hand to knock, but the door burst open first. A tall female knight with flowing white hair emerged.
“What, you’ve already arrived?”
Margrave Camilla Fey, Count of the Fey Family, looked at the Raven Knight Order and spoke in a flat voice.