There in the Silvester garden, a young man and a young lady were seated. The lady sat on a stool, smiling as she gently gazed at the young man who sat on the ground in front of her.
Maxwell had a fond smile on his lips as he gazed into Rita’s silver eyes. They urged him to keep explaining.
He was telling his story, recounting his experience from his birth in the Belognia household to his eventual disowning and how he wandered from the Western Duchal family to Ludia to beco a rcenary and, out of spite, shove his success in his family’s face.
Every now and then, as he spoke, the lady would giggle, or chuckle, or even wear a sad expression as if to whisper: "I’m sorry."
Sotis she would even interrupt his story with a witty remark, causing Maxwell to chuckle. And when Maxwell told her about the chatterbox friend he made in Ludia, Eithan, she had remarked that he sounded like a fun person to be around.
Maxwell only laughed at that.
Their discussion had begun in the afternoon, and now, the world was heading toward evening. And as the sun was about to set, the evening took on a different feeling. The grating heat had dwindled, and a cool, gentle and relieving breeze blew against the skins of the youths.
"And that was how I escorted Lady Olive to the ball." Maxwell completed his story.
"Ohh! Now I understand." Margarita smiled. "So Olive is at the ball right now, huh? And she ca here just because of ?"
Maxwell nodded.
"It has been a while since I’ve seen her," Rita said. "It’s been years. Back when my father still allowed friends to visit. We were even kids back then. I had no idea that she would still rember and even co all the way to a ball without her father, just to see ."
Maxwell chuckled.
"Quite a loyal friend you’ve made, that girl."
Rita smiled brightly.
"More like the only friend I still have. I should go visit her after this. I haven’t seen her today."
’A good idea. Olive’s been wanting to et with you. She’s excited.’
"She’s your only friend?" Maxwell blinked. "What about , then? I know we just t yesterday, but we are going to be friends, right?"
Rita rested her chin on her open palm, a knowing, mischievous grin on her rosy lips as she crossed her legs.
"Maxwell, with the way you look at ... I think we both know it, don’t we?" She giggled. "We’re not going to be friends."
Max’s eyes widened.
Badump–! Badump–!
His heartbeat surged, tracking off rhythm.
And then, suddenly... silence.
A heavy, awkward silence stretched between them that only the hushed rhythm of their breathing cleared.
And overhead, the distant cries of a bird echoed.
’We’re not going to be friends.’
Maxwell exhaled shakily, calming his beating heart and his raging nerves.
And then, he asked:
"What about you, My Lady? What’s your story?"
Rita looked away from Maxwell for a while. A somber smile stretched on her lips as she gazed skyward, observing the free birds fly together in a flock.
"Maxwell... Call Rita. Just Rita. No need for the formal tone."
Maxwell nodded.
"Right. Rita." He smiled. "Call Max."
"Max," she whispered, seemingly digesting the sound of his na. "My story is... not so exciting or adventure-filled like yours," she began, her voice taking on a low rhythm, "although we do have one thing in common; we’re both outcasts of our families.
"And we both take on a different elental path from our family. I admire you. You left your family, ventured out into the world to find success to ’shove it in their faces’ as you said," she chuckled to that, "And you found that success! ...Obviously. An S-rank rcenary. An 8th-circle mage." She sighed. "You see, what strikes about your story is the fact that you said the connections you ford were what made you realize that life was..." she paused.
Maxwell nodded, waiting for her to go on.
The lady blinked. Then spoke:
"That’s what I want. A chance to figure out life for myself. I’ve never had that chance. My mother died when I was just a kid. And from the day my father remarried, I’ve been trapped in that mansion. I have no morable story of my past. Only hopeful notes for my future. How I want things to be.
"Oh, but I can tell you that I wasn’t always completely alone. I had Maddy. I might’ve gone insane if she weren’t in my life. Her presence was and still is my saving grace."
"Who is Maddy?"
"She’s my butler. My retainer. And... rember when I said Olive was my only friend? Well, Maddy is more than a friend to . She’s a sister."
Maxwell’s smile... dwindled. His eyes suddenly felt heavy.
Her words made him rember sothing. The words of a friend.
’I may be a cruel being, as I am the god of darkness. But I’m not a cruel friend. No... not even a friend. A brother.’
Those were the words of Malin.
Maxwell’s smile returned, but they took on a somber quality.
"I see," Maxwell said. "She sounds like a really good person."
"She is."
Maxwell stared at Rita for a while. The silver of her eyes was deep and enchanting. Her smile was small but beautiful.
"Do you have a dream, Max?"
Maxwell recoiled ntally from the question.
"A– a dream?" He asked.
"Yes. A dream. Sothing you look forward to. Sothing you want to achieve so greatly. The level of power you’ve achieved is the life goal of so people. But even with all that power, you still look like you’re chasing after sothing. Like you’re not exactly done yet. In fact, it seems like your power is a ans to an end. You don’t chase after wealth or status like most people would. You’re not even famous as the youngest 8th-circle mage."
’Oh, I’m plenty wealthy, alright.’
But...
Maxwell grinned.
...How ironic it was.
"I do have a dream."
"And it is?"
’You.’
"I want to open a bar at a nice, cool place. Sowhere warm and cozy, where people can co unwind and talk about their day and leave with a sense of rrint. I want to live the rest of my life not worrying about how to climb to the next level. Or how to survive. I don’t want to dread another day of waking up. I want to look forward to the next day. And I want to look forward to the next day with yo... soone by my side."
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