The first feeling she experienced upon seeing him appear in the arena was relief. Relief that Leon Bening’s schemes had come to nothing, that she would not have to sit upon a throne built with bloodstained swords. And, a little relief that he had reached the finals safely.

“I will win.”

His resolve, and the look in his eyes as he said it, brought her satisfaction. It felt as if she could fight without regret and willingly bear the consequences of this battle. So Theodora nodded and replied.

“Then you’d better be prepared.”

If only she hadn’t seen that smile. As she looked into Arsen Bern’s bitter smile, she glimpsed Maxime within him again. Now was not the time to recall such memories. Now was not the time to reveal the questions about him that lay within her heart.

“Anytime.”

The judge announced the start of the match, and Arsen charged at her, bringing down his sword. That movement—from his feet lifting from the ground, tracing his sword’s path, and driving it toward her—was far smoother and more concise than she’d expected. Theodora raised her sword to block the attack, her brows furrowing slightly.

Her reaction was half a beat too slow. Half a beat. A memory of Maxime wielding his sword flashed through Theodora’s mind. When they sparred without aura, Maxime would win by a narrow margin seven times out of ten.

“Do you think a half beat is what decides the victor in swordplay?” “If it’s between swordsmen of similar skill, then yes.”

Focus.

Theodora fought to steady her concentration, which was fraying under the memories resurfacing. She and Arsen held each other within the range of their blades—Arsen pressing the attack, and Theodora on defense. Rather than trying to disrupt his offensive flow, she decided to parry his strikes.

The dark-haired knight’s lips curved, exuding a fierce and confident smile. Again, Theodora saw Maxime in him, and meanwhile, Arsen’s blade cut through the air once more. Matching his rhythm, Theodora sped up her own movements. If she couldn’t keep pace with his sword’s rhythm, the match would tip against her.

The black blade of Black Wolf shadowed Baek-Ah’s white blade. Theodora managed to align her sword with his strikes, though it didn’t seem he was using much mana. Even so, Arsen’s sword felt faster, heavier.

Clang-!

It was a beautiful trajectory. One she’d encountered before. To shake off the encroaching memories, Theodora swung her sword with even more force.

Boom! Boom!

She tried to decipher his habits. Theodora studied Arsen’s movements, trying to catch any subtle habits mixed in with his breathing and the swing of his sword.

Boom! Boom!

But each time their blades clashed, all she recognized were habits she knew all too well. Was the memory clouding her judgment? No, Arsen was blatantly displaying a swordsmanship style she knew well.

The footwork was different. His breathing, his sword technique, were subtly different. Yet the habits she observed were ones only Theodora knew. Where his gaze fell as he swung his sword, how he adjusted his grip after each technique, and the way he guided the flow of their clash—these habits drove Theodora’s mind deeper into confusion.

No. That man isn’t Maxime.

Theodora repeated this to herself as she swung her sword. But as if to refute her, Arsen wielded his sword with the same essence as Maxime’s.

I have to shake it off.

She clenched her teeth. She was under psychological siege. Ever since she uncovered the truth of Maxime’s scars in the East, Theodora had been pushed to her limit. She tried to ignore the emotional weight of it, burdened with the guilt of not understanding the extent of Maxime’s suffering, and pressed forward.

She thought that if she could defeat Behemoth, she might face Maxime again. Even if he would never accept her again, she had hoped to at least confront her sins and untangle the threads of their twisted past.

—But that never happened.

Maxime didn’t return from battle. Theodora, who had once thought her time would move forward from the day of their academy graduation, found herself frozen in that same place, her journey halted at the battlefield of Muir.

Clang!

The black blade of Black Wolf scattered crimson sparks into the air. Through the burst of flame and the sharp look in Arsen’s eyes, Theodora saw Maxime again.

Clang!

Searching for Maxime had become a hollow cry. It was as if the world had erased him from existence, with no word of his whereabouts reaching her. Her poor knights had become pawns in Leon Bening’s hands, holding her hostage. Like a beast trapped in a mire, the more she struggled, the deeper she sank.

Is this my punishment, Maxime?

Is this a punishment for clinging to resentment toward you, for failing to try to understand you?

Seeing a knight with Maxime’s exact habits and gaze haunted her with guilt. This man wasn’t Maxime, and she didn’t even know where the Maxime she needed to find was or what he was doing. Why, then, did she see Maxime in this knight?

“No.”

Boom!

Theodora tried to push Arsen back. She had to cast him aside to deny that he resembled Maxime, to silence the questions about him that kept surfacing within her. There was no need for further probing. She had held off on using her aura for long enough, solely out of lingering regret.

The closer he got, the more his sword resembled Maxime’s. As if he were claiming to be Maxime, his strikes became increasingly blatant.

It has to be you. No one else can wield a sword this way.

Her head was spinning, ready to burst. Resolving to end this stalemate, Theodora drew upon her mana. From the root of her blade, platinum mist began to rise.

Was this how I cast Maxime aside back then?

In her mind’s eye, she saw the training grounds on that rainy day and recalled Maxime’s desperate face looking up at her.

Yes, he isn’t Maxime. I’m only projecting a ghost onto him. Theodora surged forward, determined to transmute the emotions and memories swirling in her mind into aura, channeling all her conflicting feelings into power.

“No.”

Boom!

Her turmoil refused to subside, like fuel on the northern wind. Like how a north wind never suddenly shifts to the south, her agitation was inevitable. She wanted to deny it, to avoid wavering in her resolve. To not see him in someone else, to not be reminded of him every time she saw someone resembling him.

Her mana boiled, flowing rapidly from her heart through her arms to her fingertips, enveloping her sword. Today, her aura seemed to mirror her inner state, manifesting in a trembling form. Arsen looked back at her with an unreadable expression—perhaps sadness, perhaps longing. Theodora had no idea what expression she wore.

“I won’t waver.”

Theodora spoke to herself and to Arsen. Encased in profound aura, she felt all-powerful, ready to tear apart the winter with her aura blade as she charged at Arsen.

“Ugh—!”

For the first time, the tide turned. The violent descent of her sword etched scars across the arena floor. Arsen tried to shake off the impact, spinning in midair. Theodora didn’t allow him to regain the upper hand.

Once more, from his habit of softening impacts to the distorted expression as he blocked her aura blade, she could read his every movement.

Theodora bit her lip and thrust her sword. Arsen clenched his teeth, blocking her attack. The aura blade wielded by the kingdom’s most talented knight was akin to a force of nature. The audience began to stir. Every movement Theodora made whipped up a gale that pressured Arsen.

“…Is that aura like the one I know? It feels different.” “At this rate, won’t they destroy the arena?” “But he’s blocking every single strike. Does he not know how to use aura?”

Despite its outward appearance, the platinum mist moved with sheer violent force. The arena floor shook as if under an earthquake. In the eye of the storm, Theodora’s sword danced, and Arsen parried each strike.

No, it’s not right.

Theodora looked at Arsen Bern through the mist. Was he unable to use aura, or was he waiting for the right moment? Arsen’s sword, Baek-Ah, met her aura without yielding. Was he holding back because he couldn’t use aura, or was there a reason he chose not to?

You aren’t Maxime.

Theodora thought to herself, though she knew there would be no answer. Then, I just need to defeat you and erase these doubts from my mind.

Her heart pumped mana continuously, channeling her defiance against the world into an attack aimed solely at Arsen Bern. The audience held their breath. Would the finals end sooner than expected? For a moment, the world seemed to hold its breath.

Theodora’s vision snapped back to clarity. Her knight’s gaze never wavered from the scene unfolding before her. She caught sight of Arsen Bern’s face, showing no signs of surprise. His lips moved, and Theodora read the words they formed.

Willow.

Screeeech-!

A metallic sound rang out like iron being torn, causing the audience to wince and cover their ears. Theodora’s aura, which had dominated the arena, surged and dispersed into the air. She stared in a daze at Arsen Bern, who had dispersed her aura. A faint, bitter smile curved on Arsen’s lips as he shook his head.

“You’re putting too much strength into it.”

“…What?”

Theodora looked at him, dazed by the words he spoke. His tone had shifted, as if he were speaking to someone he’d known for a long time.

“If you want to fight without regret, ease the tension in your shoulders. You need to shake off all those distracting thoughts running through your mind.”

Arsen Bern grinned as he spoke. The words brought Theodora, lost in confusion, back to a blank state of mind. What is this man saying to me right now? Arsen Bern straightened his posture, a small smirk on his face.

“…What are you saying?”

“Right now, just focus on crossing swords. Think only of how to defeat the person before you, how to surpass them with your swordsmanship.”

Baek-Ah still gleamed, and Arsen Bern stood firmly before her. Theodora recalled words Maxime had once shared during their training. The memory overlaid itself with the scene before her.

“If you want to win, focus on the situation.”

Theodora’s gaze wavered. In her mind, only Arsen Bern’s voice echoed, leaving her unable to think of anything else. Unconsciously, words formed on her lips.

“Why… are you saying the same things he did?”

“Because I know.”

Her expression twisted. Then, a white blade thrust toward her. Theodora raised her sword, blocking Arsen’s strike. Despite the aura enveloping her sword, it failed to penetrate Arsen’s unaurated blade. Her storm-gray eyes met his dark ones.

“Don’t say his words with a different face.”

Theodora’s gaze sharpened. Arsen responded to her antagonistic words with nothing more than a meaningful smile.

“Then, defeat me first. That should be enough to silence me, don’t you think?”

“I intended to do that from the start.”

Aura flowed like currents of a mighty river, wrapping around Black Wolf’s blade with threads of platinum.

“Yes, Theodora. You should’ve done that from the beginning.”

Arsen spoke with a satisfied smile, but Theodora gave no answer and swung her sword.

Advance, one step closer.

Their blades clashed. The two knights traced the same paths, reading each other’s intentions, their black and white blades intertwining and sparking in the winter air. The earlier exchanges had been merely a prelude to the fierce battle now beginning.

“It seems you’re finally ready.”

Arsen spoke, smiling as he slipped into her defenses with an unusual rhythm, looking for an opening in her movements. His sword was not one that could be easily countered. To overcome it, she needed to rely on raw strength and speed.

Boom-!

In a knight’s duel, skill wasn’t solely about technique. Theodora didn’t naively rely on swordsmanship alone to decide the outcome.

If he attacked with trickery, she responded with straightforward strikes. If his sword moved unpredictably, she didn’t waste time countering it. The steady clang of metal quickly grew in frequency, and soon the sparks of their clash overwhelmed every sound of winter.

Reluctantly, she felt a familiar warmth.

How long had it been since she swung her sword with the sole purpose of besting the knight before her? Theodora looked through the flowing aura at Arsen’s face, which seemed subtly altered. Was it an illusion created by mana?

Thunk!

The two knights kicked up dust as they parted. Theodora looked at the breathless Arsen and asked, without anger. Though she didn’t want to ask, curiosity lingered in her mind. Just then, white flakes fell before her eyes, like ashes drifting down.

“It’s snowing.”

Arsen Bern raised his head. Was she seeing things? The closer she looked, the more Arsen’s form seemed to resemble Maxime’s. She almost wished he would deny it, to make it easier for her, but she felt a growing bitterness toward the knight standing before her with that faint smile.

“It snowed that day too.”

If only he hadn’t said that.

“You bastard.”

When it came to memories of snow, only one day came to Theodora’s mind—the day of their parting, the day they returned to being two separate people. You’d stabbed me in the heart, and you’d plunged a knife into your own chest even deeper. Arsen looked up at the falling snow, as if taking it in. His once jet-black hair had now become a dark brown.

“…I searched for you everywhere.”

Her voice trembled. Arsen looked back at her, but she saw a glint of sadness in his eyes, as though rain were about to fall from her storm-gray gaze. Seeing her expression, he gave a bitter smile.

“If it’s not you, I’ll make sure you regret it. And if it is you… I’ll make you regret it even more.”

Theodora raised her sword again. Arsen—or rather, Maxime—also lifted his sword. No words were needed. As always, they would speak through their swords.

Boom-!

The falling snow was drawn upward by the gusts from Black Wolf and Baek-Ah. As the aura blade sliced from top to bottom, Maxime narrowly deflected it, counterattacking. With snow as their stage, their swords clashed. Theodora’s sword questioned him fiercely, and Maxime’s blade responded with answers.

Their duel was a strange one. Though each strike aimed to defeat the other, they intertwined as if choreographed, perfectly obstructing each other. This wasn’t the battle of pride between two rivals, nor the death struggle of warriors in battle.

“Doesn’t it look like they’re dancing?” “…It’s beautiful.”

Amid the snowflakes, sparks burst forth. The white blade left a trail, and the black blade traced a platinum line, producing even more sparks. Under that light, the knights danced, like partners who knew each other well. Their sword dance captivated everyone.

Theodora’s blade didn’t waver. Its essence remained unchanged. Maxime was glad to see it.

You are my salvation.

Maxime’s sword found an opening, striking at her. Theodora countered, attempting to knock Baek-Ah from his hands.

You are my guide and will always be my light.

Boom-!

His once black hair had now returned to its natural color. His face, once foreign and sharp, softened into a gentle yet resilient expression.

“I never got to say it back then.”

The words left unsaid on the rainy day in the training grounds. Maxime swung his sword, aiming to sever the tangled threads and move forward.

Today, I will defeat you.

“Bloom.”

Baek-Ah’s tip began to sketch flowers.

Theodora watched the flowers blooming amid the pouring snow. Where had someone who couldn’t even wield aura learned such swordsmanship? If she poured every last drop of her mana into her strike, could she break through his?

I was always guilty to you, though I never knew it.

Theodora pointed Black Wolf forward. Still cloaked in aura, it hummed with anticipation.

Could we pick up where we left off? Could I shamelessly ask you that?

Theodora gripped Black Wolf with both hands, recalling her strongest technique. This was always how they communicated—drawing out each other’s best. She extended her sword into the garden Maxime’s blade had conjured.

“New Moon.”

Just as the moon is swallowed by shadow, Black Wolf crept forward. Baek-Ah approached. The new moon moved to devour the light in the garden, and as it reached the edge—

Ah.

Theodora felt as if she were floating, her body lifted into the air. She reached toward the snowy sky. Her mind, once filled with confusion, now felt remarkably clear. She’d thought she’d be thrown to the ground, but her body never hit the earth.

“You waited a long time, didn’t you?”

Before her stood Maxime. Unsure if she was seeing things, she raised her hand and touched his face. Her cold fingers felt the warmth of his cheek. Black Wolf lay embedded in the ground a short distance away.

I lost.

Theodora thought as she stroked Maxime’s cheek.

“No, I didn’t wait at all.”

Maxime let out his familiar dry laugh. Theodora realized he was holding her in his arms, supporting her back. Yet, she felt no urge to stand up. Resting against his arms, she simply gazed at his face. Soft brown hair, golden eyes shining. Aside from the slight exhaustion, the Maxime Apart she remembered stood there.

The coliseum was ready to crown its champion. The stands were a roaring forge of excitement, reverberating with thunderous cheers.

“The victor—Arsen Bern of the Second Guard!!!”

A bit of mischief slipped into her voice as Theodora commented in a sulky tone.

“You know you’re a terrible person, don’t you?” “I know, I know.” “And it’s even more annoying that you’re so shameless about it.” “Sorry. I couldn’t help it.”

Theodora sighed and stroked Maxime’s cheek again.

“You know, there’s so much I want to say to you.” “You’ll have plenty of time to say it all.” “Not just the past—I want to talk about the future too.” “That’s why I won.”

The powerless version of Maxime was gone now. Theodora was glad to see it, and she smiled.

“Idiot.”

Their smiles met. After two winters, they were reunited this way.