Interlude: Scissors and Knight
“Senior, your hair’s grown quite a bit, hasn’t it?”
Some ordinary weekday after the Raven Knight Order’s reformation, Christine approached Maxim with those words once their duties were done. Maxim toyed with the long side-swept bangs that had grown past his eyes.
“Has it?”
Now that she mentioned it, he realized it had been a long time since his last haircut. He paused by the mirror hanging in the corridor and measured the length with his gaze. Long enough to brush his eyes. He decided he ought to cut it soon.
In the reflection, Christine stood beside him, watching. She reached out and ran her fingers through his brown hair, testing the ends.
“Want me to cut it for you? It’s been a while.”
Maxim accepted her touch without protest, though his brow furrowed in thought.
“Hmm… maybe?”
“Don’t refuse. The Vice Commander is offering to do it herself.”
Christine grinned playfully and gave his hair a firm tug. Maxim let out a helpless laugh and accepted.
“Fine. Let’s see those skills of yours after all this time.”
“Just leave it to me. When have I ever let you down, senior?”
Christine hummed a cheerful little tune as she headed for the Vice Commander’s office, her steps light. Maxim followed slowly behind her.
Once inside, she fetched an old cloth, shook it out with a snap, and draped it around Maxim’s neck as he sat.
“It really has been a while.”
“It really has.”
Christine murmured as she lifted his hair, letting the soft strands slip through her pale fingers like crumbling petals. She produced a pair of scissors from somewhere and snipped them experimentally in the air.
“…It’s been so long I’m actually a little nervous.”
“Senior, I told you I trim my own hair. Don’t worry.”
Even as she spoke, her hands kept moving through his hair, arranging it.
“…When was the first time you cut my hair, anyway?”
Christine smiled softly.
“Probably not long after I joined. It hasn’t been that many years, has it? About two, I think.”
“I was surprised when you suddenly offered to cut it out of nowhere.”
Maxim watched his hair fall in neat snippets and let his mind drift back to that time.
Autumn in this region was so brief it felt more like a fleeting bridge between summer and winter. Even after the record-breaking heatwave had passed, the sky still carried faint traces of that brutal sun. Today it stretched endlessly clear, not a single cloud to mar its terrifying blue.
The training ground was just as empty as the sky above. Maxim frowned at the thick weeds pushing through the cracks between the stones. The people responsible for maintaining this place—and the knights who should have been training here—had already slipped away to drink. Only Maxim remained.
Even the Commander had left with an expression of pure annoyance, declaring the day over. If the Commander himself had given permission to leave, what could the Vice Commander possibly do to stop them?
Maxim clutched his throbbing head. These damn fools.
He sighed. It was only four in the afternoon, but the days were already growing shorter. The sky remained bright as he walked the perimeter of the training ground with his hands clasped behind his back like some old man on a stroll.
A year and a half. That was how much time had passed. The past had already burned to ash. Maxim shook his head, refusing to dwell on it any longer.
Last summer, during their leave, he had taken Marion to the river. He could still picture her hesitating before dipping her feet into the clear, flowing water.
…Pathetic.
That was how Maxim judged both himself and the knights under his command. Not one of them was free of that flaw. None possessed the will to move forward. They were little more than a gathering of people trapped in yesterday, sacrificing today. Or rather—perhaps there was one exception.
Maxim made a thoughtful sound. The newcomer who had joined not long ago was probably still here.
Birds chirped from the ivy-covered roof of the main building. Maxim stopped his aimless circling and headed inside.
“Damn Commander.”
He cursed the old man under his breath as he opened the door. Worthless Commander. Dog of a Commander. He sounded like an old man himself.
The familiar wrinkled face greeted him the moment the door swung open.
“What about the Commander, boy?”
Maxim didn’t even bother making an excuse. He simply matched the old man’s expression with one of his own.
“Nothing, sir.”
The Commander already knew exactly what Maxim was thinking. But with his retirement drawing near, he had neither the energy nor the desire to correct the younger man’s attitude. After all, he was leading a band of knights who had no interest in being knights anymore. And Maxim was handling the endless paperwork competently. That rare usefulness was enough to let the Commander overlook the younger man’s muttered curses.
“Still not heading home?” Maxim asked, a trace of sarcasm in his voice.
The Commander snorted and shrugged, clearly aware of the question’s true intent.
“Had to step out for a moment. I’m leaving for real now. Even these idiot knights don’t usually sneak out this early.”
The man who had just told everyone they could leave with an annoyed wave of his hand—was that really their Commander? Maxim felt a migraine coming on.
“Ah, about this quarter’s budget allocation…” The Commander handed over a thick file.
Maxim took it and glared, eyes asking what fresh nonsense was coming next.
“I think we can pull a little more from the maintenance funds.”
The usual embezzlement talk. Maxim sighed, thoroughly sick of it.
“Commander, we’re already out of usable practice swords. We’re short on training dummies as it is, and—”
The Commander narrowed his eyes. “You don’t even run proper training. Why are you so obsessed with equipment? If you want to train alone, just take what you need for yourself.”
He clicked his tongue. A vein pulsed visibly at Maxim’s temple.
The Commander ignored the reaction entirely and kept talking. “You really are stubborn. I can’t tell if it’s pride, inflexibility, or just a lack of sense. At times like these, you should just take your share like everyone else.”
Maxim listened, drained of the will to argue. He had learned over the past few months that anger changed nothing.
“Or maybe it’s because you’re still new to the post…” The Commander wore the knowing look of an old man who believed he had seen everything.
“Whatever happened to you, you’re the Vice Commander of this pathetic order now.” The Commander casually insulted the very unit he led. “Accept reality. Most of these knights are still living in the past. You at least should wise up, take what you can, and…” He patted Maxim’s shoulder. “Hm?”
With that, the old man headed out.
Maxim stared at the file in his hands and grimaced again. He barely resisted the urge to hurl the useless papers away as he walked toward the Vice Commander’s office.
“I’m exhausted,” he muttered, reaching for the doorknob.
“…Huh?”
He paused, sensing a presence inside. Who would be in his office?
Scratching his head with the hand still holding the documents, Maxim opened the door.
“You’re…”
His eyes widened at the unexpected visitor.
The knight who had joined recently. Rich, flowing golden hair and vivid green eyes that seemed to sparkle with their own light. Those eyes especially—bright as a living summer forest.
She was a mage, if he remembered correctly. He couldn’t fathom why someone of her caliber would join an order like this. They had only exchanged a few greetings since her arrival, so her face still felt unfamiliar. Her name was…
“Christine Watson, right? The mage.”
She nodded, a small smile touching her lips.
“Yes, Vice Commander. I was asked to leave these documents in your office…”
Christine held up a file hesitantly. Maxim let out a heavy sigh at the sight of yet another stack.
“Damn it… what’s that one now?”
The quarterly reports in his own hand suddenly felt twice as heavy. Christine noticed his darkening expression and quickly set her papers on the desk.
“They said they were personnel files. The approvals are already done, so you only need to review them.”
Whether that was a relief or just more pointless work, Maxim tapped the file against his head in irritation.
“Understood. Thank you.”
He walked wearily to the desk and glanced at what she had brought. Another incident, it seemed. And more than one or two people this time. The thought of adding even more idiots to an order that was already bloated with them made the future look bleak.
He dropped his own documents onto the desk with a thud. Since he had nothing better to do after hours anyway, he might as well finish this first. Maxim sank into his chair and breathed deeply. The office carried its usual damp, musty odor. Not exactly pleasant.
“Good work. You can head out. Everyone else has already left, but they keep pushing chores onto the newest member…”
Maxim spoke without lifting his eyes from the papers—whether it was comfort or complaint, even he wasn’t sure.
Christine gave a small laugh. Maxim opened the ledger and began working.
“Ah… damn it all…”
Finding mismatched numbers in the accounts was tedious work. He rubbed his tired eyes and kept going.
Only then did he notice Christine still standing there.
“…Aren’t you going home?”
She was watching him with curious eyes.
“You have a lot of work.”
“More than I’d like, yes.”
“…I think I could help.”
Maxim’s head snapped up. It was the first offer of assistance anyone had given him since his appointment. He seized it immediately.
“Really?”
Christine leaned back slightly, startled by his sudden intensity. If the workload had been light he would have sent her away, but the mountain of meaningless paperwork had grown unbearable.
“Could you… lend a hand?”
He cleared his throat, realizing how eager he had sounded.
“…Of course.”
Christine rolled up her sleeves, claiming she had handled documents for a long time back at the Magic Tower. Maxim gave her part of the ledger, asking her to help tally the numbers while he reviewed the personnel files himself.
“You’re the first person who’s ever offered to help.”
Maxim looked at her with genuine gratitude. Christine answered with a mysterious little smile and began reading.
The soft rustle of turning pages filled the room. Outside the window, the autumn sunset painted the sky in warm hues. The sound blended perfectly with the quiet scene.
“How did you end up joining the knight order?”
Maxim had no idea Christine had been called a genius at the Magic Tower. His question was born of pure curiosity—why would a mage join an order that saw no real combat?
She met his gaze. For some reason, Maxim found it difficult to look away from those deep green eyes.
“I had a fight with my superiors and left the Magic Tower.”
Her voice was perfectly even, as casual as if she were complaining about a lovers’ quarrel before work. Only the faintest trace of annoyance showed; nothing deeper.
“…I see.”
Christine smiled brightly. Maxim decided not to press. She must have her reasons.
The work finished faster than expected. Maxim’s diligence combined with Christine’s surprising competence made for an efficient team.
“You worked hard, Christine. Thank you.”
“No, Vice Commander. You did the heavy lifting.”
The sky beyond the window had taken on the deep colors of an autumn mountain. Maxim stretched his stiff body.
“I’ll buy dinner. Care to join me?”
Her eyes widened in surprise, but she nodded slowly.
“Yes… let’s have dinner.”
“Good.”
As he rose, a lock of hair fell into his vision. He caught it and muttered, “My hair really has grown long.”
The short cut he had gotten at the start of summer had grown out considerably by autumn. He grumbled about how bothersome it would be to cut.
Christine watched him closely.
“Vice Commander.”
“Yes?”
She narrowed her eyes, studying his hair. “If you’d like, I could cut it for you right now.”
The unexpected offer made him raise an eyebrow. “You know how to cut hair?”
She smiled. “I’m quite good at it.”
Maxim glanced between the setting sun outside and her smiling face. There was still time. The balance between curiosity and hesitation tipped toward the former. He nodded.
“All right… let’s cut my hair first, then eat.”
The preparations were simpler than expected. Soon Maxim sat in the office chair with an old cloth from storage draped around his shoulders. Christine had restored a pair of rusty scissors with a quick spell and was now testing their balance with quick snips in the air.
“Then I’ll begin.”
Her voice carried genuine excitement as she started cutting. Maxim regretted entrusting his head to her—until her hands actually touched his hair.
“…Oh?”
The touch was surprisingly gentle and confident. Snip by snip, she moved as though she knew exactly what she was doing. Maxim was quietly impressed by how smoothly and evenly his hair fell.
“You really are good at this…”
Christine smiled faintly. “I trim my own hair all the time.”
She continued shaping it with small, precise cuts.
“And… I grew up in an orphanage. I used to cut the children’s hair there. So I’m used to cutting other people’s hair.”
Maxim found her straightforward honesty strangely charming.
“I see.”
Snip. Snip. Even after she finished, she continued making tiny adjustments, as if something still bothered her.
“There… it’s done, Vice Commander.”
The result was surprisingly neat and clean.
“That’s impressive. Thank you, Christine.”
Maxim touched his reflection in the mirror in admiration. Behind him, where he could not see, Christine wore a sad smile. A smile of atonement, blooming like a narcissus upon mist.
“It was nothing, Vice Commander.”
“…It’s exactly like back then.”
Maxim ran his fingers through the neatly trimmed hair, marveling. Christine beamed with pride.
“What did I tell you, senior?”
“Your attitude has gotten a lot cheekier, though.”
Christine puffed her cheeks in mock displeasure.
“After how much I—”
“All right, all right.”
Before she could finish, Maxim cut her off—only for Christine to ruffle his freshly cut hair with both hands.
“Hey! I just got it cut!”
“Go wash it downstairs, senior.”
Maxim chuckled, and Christine laughed with him.
It was a small, ordinary moment—one that would probably never come again.